


No Remedy

by LittleMouse



Category: Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works
Genre: Anal, Angst, Attempted Rape, Fluff, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Oral Sex, Psychological Torture, Violence, yes I said Fluff after all that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-31
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-13 07:10:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMouse/pseuds/LittleMouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erestor loves Glorfindel. Glorfindel loves a certain Lady... doesn't he? A diplomatic mission to Lothlorien goes horribly wrong; Glorfindel learns what it means to be truly loved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

_There is no remedy for love, but to love more._

~ Henry David Thoreau

 

 

 

 

Broken.

His heart was broken.

Into little pieces, and ground to dust beneath careless heels.

Of course, no one knew this.

But that didn’t matter, for he knew they would not care if they did know.

Erestor tapped his fingers nervously against the balcony railing, watching the dancing figures in the huge Fire Hall below. A great celebration was in full sway, a binding ceremony just completed. The second-in-command of Imladris’ warriors had finally joined with his beloved, a sweet young maiden well-liked by the rest of their community. Everyone except the sentries were present.

Erestor would have much preferred to be the exception. It would be easier if he were hidden away in the Library or his rooms, not watching everyone else be happy. But he had prepared the celebration, taking seriously the duties Lord Elrond had given him, and he needed to watch and make sure nothing went wrong.

But that didn’t mean he had to be down in the bright, cheerful room. No, he would stay here, on this little shadowy, disused back-balcony, and keep his grim presence from spoiling the festivities for the newly-bound couple. He’d heard enough remarks over the years - his hearing was incredibly sharp, even for an Elf - and he’d had enough ‘black crow’, ‘scarecrow’, and ‘old death-head’ comments whispered his way. He had no desire to add to them.

He settled down into a stiff old chair, arranging his shapeless black robes comfortably around him. As an Elf, he didn’t feel the cold unless he was injured, but he had always enjoyed the comfort of fabric around him. Long, heavy robes, thick dark cloaks, a bed piled high with blankets. He sometimes wondered, in an abstract, amused sort of way, if he was compensating for the fact that there were no arms around him. If he subconsciously filled the void with enveloping, cradling cloth.

Well, if he did, there was no harm in it. It wasn’t like there would ever  _be_  arms, after all. Best to take what he could.

A sudden, loud laugh intruded on his thoughts and he leaned forward a bit, eyes searching. There, standing by the fire, a hand clapped to the shoulder of the new bridegroom, eyes shining with mirth while his hair shone like liquid gold in the firelight.

Glorfindel.

Ah, Glorfindel.

The object of his hidden thoughts, the star performer in his favorite dreams, the name that lurked at the back of his mind no matter what he was doing.

The reason for his broken heart.

The  _other_  reason stood at Glorfindel’s side, a hand laid possessively on his arm. A tall She-Elf, with hair like sunlight flowing to the small of her back, strands twisted up in an elegant pattern of braids, beads, gems and knots. Her proud face was fair-skinned and exquisite; big blue eyes sparkled behind long golden eyelashes. Her perfect figure was encased in a clinging robe of some soft blue stuff, revealing and yet hiding her sweet curves in a most enticing manner.

The Lady Riel, the perfect partner for Lord Glorfindel, an excellent match to his height and coloring, drawing the eye of every single male in the room, and some who weren’t so single. She was a being of beauty and light and all the Elves adored her.

Erestor hated her.

Rather intensely.

But then, he’d hated every male and female who had ever stood at Glorfindel’s side. Lady Riel was just the longest-lasting one, a lover Glorfindel went back to time and again. He’d stayed with her for a decade this time around, and whispers of a bonding ceremony of their own had reached Erestor’s pointed ears.

Well, what did he expect? It wasn’t like Glorfindel was going to suddenly throw himself at his feet and declare his undying love! He’d never even gotten up the courage to speak with the Elf!

Erestor hunched forward and a long, thick rope of hair slid over his shoulder. For a moment he fingered it, studying the flat, deep black of it. He always kept his hair in a single tight braid, pulling it harshly back and slicking it down flat against his head. It was soft as silk but the color was dull. He refused to use oils and potions on it like other Elves did. He didn’t want it to shine, it would attract attention. He didn’t want to leave it down and loose. He’d had enough jibing comments in his youth to want to avoid them ever being heard again. He sat back in his seat, irritably flicking the braid back over his shoulder. He forced his dark eyes to move away from the two golden Elves, to survey the Hall for any problems that needed handling.

He never realized that the sudden, sharp motion had attracted attention.

 

*

 

Deep blue eyes, trained warrior eyes, caught the movement where no movement should be. Glorfindel stared hard at the far balcony, until he could make out the pale oval of a face, surrounded completely by black.

Well, there was only one Elf in Imladris  _that_  could be.

He moved away from Riel, who was gushing over the bride’s lovely robes, and scooped up two full wineglasses from a nearby table. He made his way quickly across the room, giving brief nods to the voices who called out to him and the hands that grabbed for him, desiring the company of the famous Balrog-slayer and Imladris’ Captain. He had a goal in mind, a curiosity he’d held for centuries but never saw the opportunity to assuage.

Erestor had always kept himself quite firmly out of anyone’s reach. Just a silent figure in black, keeping to the shadows and whispering advice in Lord Elrond’s ear; always busy or across the room or vanishing when one wanted to have normal conversation with him. If it was about work, or the duty roster, or the schedule of patrols, then Erestor would speak to him; a mellow low voice that made his toes curl.

Otherwise, nothing doing.

And he’d never seen the other Elf choose such an unguarded position before, so he wasn’t going to let the unexpected opportunity slip past. Well, he supposed the dark balcony wasn’t _that_  odd a choice - it got him out of and away from the crowd, and if he hadn’t tossed his braid back, Glorfindel would never have seen him.

Didn’t matter. He wasn’t getting away this time.

He went quietly up the stairs and out onto the balcony. Erestor was watching as the servants brought out new trays of delicacies, and didn’t notice the other Elf until Glorfindel slid into the seat beside him.

The warrior hid a brief smile when Erestor jumped. "Wine?" was all he said, offering one of the glasses.

 

*

 

Erestor took the glass slowly, watching Glorfindel with suspicion in his dark eyes. What was the Elda up to?

Apparently, he was up to stretching out his long legs and sighing.

"Nice spot. Quiet."

"Mm." Erestor knew it wasn’t much of an answer, but he had no idea what to say.

Glorfindel didn’t seem to mind. "Why do you sit here, alone, instead of joining in the company?"

Several answers raced through the dark-haired Elf’s mind.  _I am not wanted. I do not care to see a close view of Lady Riel draped over you. I have been the butt of enough jokes for one lifetime. I would rather sit with Orcs than some of the Elves down there._

"I prefer privacy."

"I see."  
 _  
Do you? Then why are you still beside me?! Leave before I start shaking like an Elfling!_ Erestor took a quick sip of the wine, hoping it would calm his nerves. Glorfindel was watching him with an odd look in those lovely blue eyes, and he wondered if the Elf had seen through the half-truth to the lies that lurked beneath

"What do you like to do?"

The question caught him off-guard. "What?"

"What do you like to do?" Glorfindel’s voice was patient, as though he were speaking to an Elf who wasn’t particularly bright. "When you’re not lurking behind Elrond or buried under papers at your desk, what do you do?"

Erestor stared at him, feeling like a deer suddenly confronted by a pack of snarling wolves. No one ever asked him questions like this! Lord Elrond himself had never inquired what he did when his presence wasn’t required by something official. "I... read a lot."

Glorfindel grinned. "That’s no surprise. Anything else?"  
  
 _Who are you and where is the Glorfindel who never speaks to me?_ "Er... walk in the gardens?"  
  
"A very calm life, Master Erestor."

He shrugged. Of course it was calm, that was the way he wanted it. "It suits me."

"Mm." It was Glorfindel’s turn for an ambiguous reply, and Erestor felt himself tense, wary. There was something in that innocent noise that warned him. Glorfindel was up to... to something.

He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like it.

This called for retaliation. When in doubt, use sarcasm. It drove everyone else away.

"And what do  _you_  do? When you are not riding, or fighting, or commanding your soldiers? Or drinking half the wine in Lord Elrond’s cellar?" He nearly smiled at the last, remembering how their usually serene Lord had bellowed when he found his sons and Glorfindel had consumed so much of his treasured store. Catching himself, he turned it into a small sneer.

Glorfindel just laughed. "What else should I do? A very calm life does  _not_ suit me. Though, I admit..." he lowered his voice as if he were about to share a huge secret, "on rare occasions, I do enjoy reading."

"You astonish me." Erestor was more than willing to play along. He knew that Glorfindel was very often in the library, coaxing the assistants there to find him this book or that, but he preferred to pretend he knew nothing about the other Elf.

"You are so surprised that I enjoy reading?"

"Nay, that you know  _how_  to read." Erestor took another sip of wine to hide a grin at the look on Glorfindel’s face. Unlike most Elves, he could tell the other was not taking his taunts seriously. The mix of hurt and astonishment was offset by the laughter in those blue eyes.

"You wound me," Glorfindel cried sadly, laying an elegant hand on his chest.

"It should come as no surprise. Age slows us all," Erestor shot back, enjoying the sudden verbal battle.

So was Glorfindel, from the look on his face. "Ah, but that one so feeble as you should be able to breach my guard! It wrings my heart with sorrow."

"That is only because..." Erestor trailed off, dark eyes settling on something in the Hall below. The amusement on his face vanished, leaving his old closed-off mask. "The Lady Riel is searching for you, Lord Glorfindel."

 

*

 

Glorfindel very nearly swore. Couldn’t Riel be alone for ten minutes at a time? Still, he had escorted her here tonight, by his own invitation. He owed her the courtesy of his attendance. But it irked him; he’d been enjoying talking to the real Erestor - or at least, someone closer to him. The Elf had a sharp sense of humor and he enjoyed the barbed tongue. There was a laughing, smiling,  _living_ Elf trapped somewhere beneath that mask, and he was determined to drag him out into the open.

Kicking and screaming, if he had to.

He got to his feet. "I should return to her. I thank you, Chief Counselor, for allowing me to share your retreat and your company. I would enjoy speaking with you more on another occasion."

Erestor gaped at him, then nodded sharply and turned his face away, gulping half of his wine. Glorfindel hid a smile and left the balcony, sighing as he saw Riel’s eyes light up at his reappearance. Really, the Lady was becoming so... cloying...

He wanted to spend more time with Erestor. Lady Riel’s company was like drowning in warm molasses; Erestor’s was like the clean feeling of a sharp, cool breeze. He smiled at the She-Elf as she linked her arm through his, nodding as she began babbling about her conversation with the bride.

He had to forcibly restrain himself from looking up at the balcony.

There had to be some way he could spend more time with Erestor, but he had to escort a diplomat to Lothlorien this week, he wouldn’t be back for nearly two months. He didn’t know who Elrond had chosen to send, but it wouldn’t be Erestor. It was never Erestor. The Elf had too many duties to keep him in Imladris.

But if anyone deserved a break, it was him...

And Glorfindel had influence with Elrond - influence he was not above using. Then, there was the advantage of the simple fact that no one else in Imladris seemed to realize how important Erestor was to keeping the place running.

The whole of the Last Homely House would fall apart if Erestor wasn’t there.

Of course, they deserved to find that out; Erestor was sadly unappreciated.

An evil smile went unnoticed on Glorfindel’s lips, and he began moving Riel toward the High Table.

Where Elrond was sitting.

He wanted to hurry and set his plan in motion. No time like the present.

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

"You want me to what?" Erestor asked blankly, staring at Lord Elrond.

The Master of Imladris sighed. "I want you to lead the diplomatic mission to Lothlorien. You leave tomorrow."

Erestor tucked his hands into his sleeves when they started to tremble. "My Lord - forgive me for questioning your decisions, but why me? I’ve never yet been on a diplomatic mission, how do you know I won’t fail you horribly?"

Elrond grinned at him. "Now, Erestor - you may not have been out of Imladris in centuries, but it hasn’t softened your wits. You can still talk me out of my plans in council meetings and I’m fairly sure you could charm the birds out of the trees if you put your mind to it. There is no better choice for this mission."

"Is it so important?" Erestor asked, surprised, purposefully ignoring the compliments.

"It’s rather important. We need to decide on the new trade routes between Lothlorien and ourselves, and discussing the reopening of negotiations with Mirkwood."

"Huh. I’m not sure I’m the best choice for that last." Erestor said, moving back toward his desk and the paperwork that  _had_  to be done today, trip or no trip.

Elrond chuckled. "You underestimate yourself. Besides, I’m sure you can put aside personal feelings to deal with something so important to Imladris. You wouldn’t be my Chief Counselor if you couldn’t."

Erestor grumbled something and sat down, sorting through the parchments and scrolls piled high on his desk. This list had to go to the traders today, this letter could be given to an assistant to complete... he wished his hands would stop trembling.

"What condition are the guest rooms in?" Elrond asked.

"They are always prepared," Erestor replied absently, picking up a particularly thick missive from a border patrol, "why?"

"The delegation from Mirkwood will arrive this evening; they will stay with us overnight and join you and your escort on the way to Lothlorien."

Erestor got his wish. His hands stopped shaking.

They froze in horror, instead.

 

*

 

Glorfindel watched as Elrond greeted the Mirkwood Elves, wondering why Erestor was not in attendance. The Councillor usually made sure he was there when important guests arrived. Those dark eyes were always watching to make sure everything in Imladris was perfect.

He wondered why today was the exception?

Well, Erestor wouldn’t have been expecting to be the Lothlorien diplomat; he was probably packing and making arrangements for others to carry out his duties.

Glorfindel smirked. It was going to take a lovely lot of Elves for  _that_. No other being in Imladris could single-handedly perform all of Erestor’s duties. Not without dropping dead from overwork.

Still, Glorfindel wished he were here. He’d been looking forward to seeing the dark Elf all day, wanting to catch his eye after last night and see if it would fluster him. If he’d learned anything about Erestor over the years, it was that the Elf always seemed to regret relaxing around someone. There were some very confused elves in Rivendell that had spoken to Erestor once and been shunned for decades afterwards.

Glorfindel was determined not to be one of them. Erestor needed a friend, whether he wanted one or not. Glorfindel nodded to himself, satisfied with his resolution, then turned his attention back to the diplomats.

He didn’t care much for their appearance - there were some lovely elves among them, but every one looked proud to the point of arrogance. Particularly one tall blond Elf. Well, all of them were blond, but this Elf had hair like pale sunlight, eyes like the morning sky, nice even features and it was all marred by the haughty expression. He was looking around the Fire Hall like he was inspecting it for flaws, and seemed disappointed when he found none.

Glorfindel rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Elrond, who looked at the Elves with a question in his eyes.

"I was told one of your king’s sons would accompany you?"

"Yes, Lord Elrond, our Prince Legolas was supposed to be among the delegates. He was kept back by a small... er, accident... but he shall follow us within the week."

"Ah," Elrond nodded, "then we shall be pleased to receive him soon."

Two dark Elves entered from a side door and Glorfindel straightened from where he was relaxed against a carved pillar, thinking Erestor had finally come into the Hall. But as they came into the light, he saw their long hair was a shade of rich brown, not black. It was Elladan and Elrohir, Elrond’s twin sons. He leaned back against the column, then frowned when he saw that his actions had been mirrored almost exactly by that light blond Elf he’d been watching earlier.

Was he, too, looking for Erestor? There were not very many dark Elves in Imladris.

Glorfindel frowned, remembering vaguely that Elrond had told him Erestor had lived in Mirkwood, millennia ago. Was this Elf, then, a friend of his? He felt a tight, almost angry feeling in his chest and frowned. He wasn’t angry... he didn’t think he’d ever felt this particular emotion before. How very odd.

And why did he care, if Erestor had friends in Mirkwood? He’d just decided the Elf  _needed_  a friend, didn’t he? He frowned, not realizing it was almost a pout.

He wanted Erestor’s friend to be  _him._

A second later and he grinned at himself. He was acting like a jealous Elfling.

...jealous?!

Was that what the odd feeling in his heart was? Jealously? He blinked in surprise, trying to analyze his emotions, then he looked back at the Mirkwood Elves and forgot what he was thinking about.

The sunlight Elf was smiling sweetly at him.

Huh?

At his puzzled look, the smile grew, lost some of its sweetness. Then it raked up and down his body and became almost a leer.

Was that arrogant, petted diplomat  _flirting_  with him?!

Ick.

He was pretty enough, Glorfindel supposed, but he knew from those earlier expressions that the Elf was far from his type. He had little use for pompous, supercilious Elves whose only grace was their tongue.

There were those who thought Erestor was that way. Glorfindel’s own thoughts went back to what had become their favorite subject lately. Yes, many Elves who thought of the Chief Councillor that way, but Glorfindel knew differently. He’d seen Erestor grim, but he’d also seen him smiling while he played with Elrond’s children. Seen him sarcastic, but never arrogant, cold but never cruel. And he’d be quite lovely if he’d wear something besides those sack-like robes and loosen his hair.

Whoa!

Where had that last thought come from?!

Erestor, lovely?

Glorfindel frowned, puzzled yet again. What  _would_  the dark Elf look like, if he dressed in just leggings and tunic and took his hair out of that tight braid? His bone structure was exquisite, now that he thought about it, his lips soft and full when they weren’t pressed tightly together, and those big dark cat eyes were unique. He’d never seen an Elf with eyes so black, they made him think of midnight and velvet and -

\- and he was getting carried away.

The Mirkwood Elves were following Elladan and Elrohir toward the guest rooms, that one looking back over his shoulder at Glorfindel.

The Elda resisted the urge to stick out his tongue at him, and left the Hall. He had to make sure the escort was ready to leave tomorrow.

 

*

 

Erestor nearly ran down the hallway, black robes swirling around him like a dark cloud. He had to run, or he was going to be late for dinner and Elrond hated that. He didn’t want to displease his Lord while the Mirkwood Elves were here - the Valar only knew they didn’t need any more ammunition to use against him.

He really hoped that none of the diplomats were Elves he knew.

He paused just outside the doors of the Dining Hall, ran a quick hand over his braid to make sure no wayward strands were coming loose, and settled his robes into place. From the voices inside, he could tell that no one had sat down yet, he wasn’t so late, after all. Good. Fixing his face in its usual calm mask, he opened one of the doors - he’d never in his life opened both of a set of double doors to enter a room - and went inside.

His eyes fell immediately on the Mirkwood Elves, and his heart sank straight down to his toes. Not him. Why did it have to be him? Did the Valar really hate him that much? Already those pale eyes were fixed on him, mocking laughter in their depths when no one else paid attention to his entrance.

Then Elladan and Elrohir entered the room together, and came straight to him.

"Erestor! Where have you been all day? We know you’re leaving tomorrow; surely you intended to bid us goodbye?" Elladan’s voice was purposefully sad.

"Yes, we’ve been looking for you!" Elrohir chimed in, putting his arms around the older Elf’s waist in an affectionate hug. "We’ve never once been without you - this is going to be very strange for us, you know!"

"So sit by us at dinner,  _please,_  Erestor? That way we can talk to you before you’re gone for months!" Elladan, despite reaching his maturity centuries ago, could whine like an Elfling when it suited him. Elrohir relied on large pleading eyes - not that his tactic wasn’t as effective.

Erestor caved immediately. He’d always been fond of the twins and they were among the few Elves in Imladris who spoke to him without trembling like he was some ogre. "Of course I will sit with you, if that is what you wish." He got two broad smiles for his reply, then the two sets of blue-green eyes focused on someone just behind him.

"I see you know when you’re outnumbered," said a rich voice. Erestor hid trembling hands in his sleeves for the second time in one day and turned, managing to keep his mask in place, only lifting an elegant eyebrow.

Glorfindel beamed at him. "They outmaneuver me constantly. I wonder how you ever kept them in hand when they were children."

"Don’t underestimate Erestor," Elladan immediately warned him, "he’s a tricky devil. He can make you do all your work and more and not only feel it was fun, but be certain that it was all your idea in the first place." The twins laughed together, then moved away, leaving him alone with the blond.

Erestor had to restrain himself from grabbing at their retreating forms. All thought of the Mirkwood Elves, and one in particular, had fled his mind as he was left facing his secret love. He tried valiantly to think of something to say, but his brain seemed frozen.

"I hope the wine caused you no troubles?" Glorfindel’s voice was polite, with an undertone of mischief.

"Eh?" _Oh, splendid, Erestor, what a comeback! That certainly impressed him!_  he chided himself.

Glorfindel was still talking. "The wine. I know you don’t usually take more than a sip. An entire goblet didn’t leave you hung over and miserable, I hope?"

Thankfully, Erestor managed to gather his wits. "No, it did not. ‘Tis not I who wanders the halls of Imladris moaning and clutching my head the day after a celebration, after all." He didn’t have to add ‘like you’, Glorfindel knew what he meant.

He grinned. "Ah, but the pleasure is worth the pain. And you were apparently a good influence; I had a relatively calm morning, for once."

"I am much pleased to hear it, since you are leading the escort. Otherwise I would worry over the possibility of being guarded by maidens with slingshots, riding on purple horses." He said the last with such a straight face that Glorfindel burst out laughing. Several Elves turned to see what was so amusing and got only confusion for their trouble.

Glorfindel was standing with Erestor, and laughing? With Erestor? Glorfindel was laughing while he stood with...

Several Elves surreptitiously pinched themselves, to see if they were dreaming.

Lord Elrond moved away from the Mirkwood Elves and came over, putting a hand on Erestor’s shoulder. "What is the joke, pray tell?"

"Erestor was only expressing his relief at the fact that I was not suffering from a hangover whilst preparing the escort," Glorfindel grinned.

Elrond copied him. "Ah, I’m a bit relieved myself. If I must trust my Chief Counselor to you, I prefer it to be when you are not cloudy-headed." His smile took any sting out of the words - he trusted Glorfindel with his children and his own life, and the blond Elf knew it.

"Come, Erestor," Elrond sighed. "Dinner with the diplomats. I know the twins want you near them, so they will sit at the High Table, as well, instead of among the warriors for once. I still have much to discuss with you. Glorfindel, you will join us, please? I wish to speak to you, as well."

"Of course, my Lord." The two Elves chorused, then stared at each other. Glorfindel snickered, and Erestor just shook his head. Elrond laughed out loud, and pushed Erestor toward the table by the shoulder he still held, catching Glorfindel’s arm with his other hand and pulling him along.

Erestor, finally remembering who might be watching, stole a quick peek at the Mirkwood Elves. Most of them were watching, including Araden. The pale blond Elf’s expression was a mixture of surprise and puzzlement. Erestor noticed, with some surprise of his own, that he didn’t look vexed by the attention he himself was receiving. He wondered if the other Elf had changed in the last millennia, and put the idea aside as highly unlikely.

He took his regular seat beside of Elrond, and Elladan sat down beside of him. On his other side was his twin, then Glorfindel. The first course was set in front of them and Erestor nibbled at it, not totally comfortable with the gaze of six Mirkwood Elves fixed on him. Araden had, no doubt, told them all sorts of things about him; their eyes were curious and measuring.

He was never more thankful for the mask he wore; the force of a habit cultivated for years kept him serene and expressionless.

One the outside, at least.

Inside, he felt a strong desire to hide behind Elrond’s chair.

Or Glorfindel’s.

Hold a moment, why Glorfindel’s? Just because he’d spoken to the Elf twice now about something that wasn’t Imladris business didn’t mean he was suddenly his best friend. His eyes darted to the tall blond for an instant and went slightly wide.

Glorfindel was gazing straight at him, a smile in dark blue eyes.

Erestor’s hands started shaking for an entirely different reason.

 

*

 

Elladan and Elrohir strolled down the hallway arm-in-arm, on their way to Erestor’s rooms. They had a going-away gift for him, and hoped he’d actually be in his chambers, packing, and not running around Imladris attending to a thousand-and-one last minute duties.

The twins, like Glorfindel, were well aware of how much Erestor did - but they were looking forward, with their usual gleeful sense of humor, to the chaos that would begin a day or so after he was gone. They knew their Ada had no idea of how much his Chief Counselor did, or he would have seen to it that Erestor had more than one assistant.

"Poor Figwit," Elladan mused, "he’s going to be run off his feet."

"We’ll help him out. Otherwise, he’ll be blamed for not keeping up with his own duties. We’re hoping to make everyone realize how much Erestor is needed, not start thinking how inept little Figwit is."

"Very true. Oh, wait, I have a better idea! Ada was speaking of sending us to the traders with those lists - let’s request a scribe and take Figwit. There are other Elves in the Library that can see to his duties. Most of them let him do all the work, anyway."

"True again, which is why he has little time to help Erestor. Really, I know Ada is busy, but we’re going to have to point out that his best workers are toiling until they are half-fading, while others only play at their duties."

"No, we won’t. By the time we’re back from our little trip, he’ll know."

"Yes! And perhaps he’ll send us after Erestor, for no one else will be able to sort out the mess."

"Yes! And then we can see them!"

They exchanged excited glances. Among the other things that Elrond did not know was that fact that both his sons had lovers in Lothlorien. They saw no reason to tell him.

Not yet.

Not until they talked their lovers into bonding.

Then they would just sit back and watch him explode.

They were expected to take maidens to wife, after all - there had to be heirs for Imladris. But their lovers were male, and they were happy to keep it that way. They had long ago decided to follow their hearts and not the rules set out for their lives. Ada would calm down after a day or so, probably welcome their beloved warriors with open arms.

And there was always Arwen; she could provide the heir once she chose a lifemate. Of course, that would be many years in the future; their precious little sister had only just reached her majority.

The twins arrived at Erestor’s door and knocked politely. If it had been any of their other tutors or friends, they would have just gone in, but Erestor valued his privacy and they valued him.

"Who is there?" A rather muffled voice called.

"‘Tis Elladan!"

"And Elrohir!"

"We have something for you."

"May we come in?"

There was a slight pause, then "If you will forgive my appearance..."

They exchange puzzled glances this time. "Erestor?"

The door opened and they nearly gaped.

"I was... looking for old clothes to travel in." The Elf inside said, blushing.

They continued to stare, speechless. This couldn’t be Erestor. Not their plain, solemn teacher. The Elf pushed back a loose waterfall of curly black hair and scowled at them. "Are you going to stand like statues in the hall all evening?"

Ah, so it  _was_  Erestor, just cleverly disguised. They couldn’t mistake that sarcastic voice. They sidled into the room, still gazing at him with wide eyes, and mutely held out a package.

Erestor narrowed his eyes at their actions - so they’d never seen him in leggings and tunic with his damn wayward hair loose, did they have to gape like small children at a festival? - and took the gift, opening it carefully. He instantly forgot the twins’ odd reaction, lifting out the beautiful cloak inside. "This is lovely," he said softly.

His voice broke the spell the others were under and they nearly shook themselves.

"Oh... yes, we knew you didn’t have a traveling cloak..." Elladan managed, still staring but with a delighted gleam beginning to seep into his eyes.

"Just those thin ones you wear when you walk in the garden..." Elrohir continued, blinking at his brother. What did that look mean?

"We know you usually like black, but there were no black cloaks to be had on such short notice." Elladan avoided his twin’s questioning gaze.

"This is fine. This is more than fine." Erestor’s voice was still quiet, big dark eyes a little misty as he stroked the fine material of the soft grey cloak. "It’s beautiful."  
  
 _So are you._

Both twins nearly spoke the words out loud, and both of them pressed their lips tight against them. Erestor was wearing a dark blue tunic that was only half-laced, showing a bit of chest that surprised them with its lean muscles, and he wore black leggings. His pale skin usually looked deathly white against his black clothes, but dressed in the blue, it glowed like moonlight. His hair was like nothing they’d ever seen before - once, as children, they’d seen a blond Elf with curls and she’d been lovely, highly sought after, but Erestor’s hair was far more beautiful than hers had been. He’d obviously just brushed it, preparing for bed, and it shone in the candle-lit room, tumbling far past his waist in waves and curls, small tendrils brushing against his face and throat.

And although the loose tunic covered him to mid-thigh, the dark, tight leggings showed them that Erestor’s slim legs were quite... delicious.

"We’re glad you like it," Elladan said, not feeling the slightest bit of guilt as his eyes roamed over his mentor’s lovely form. He was true to his ‘Lorien lover, but that didn’t mean he was blind. And Elrohir was studying the dark Elf just as intently. He finally pulled his eyes back to Erestor’s face, noting that the thin ‘death’s head’ that got so many comments - for which he’d punched a few Elflings when he was younger - only looked delicate and fragile when surrounded by curls. He had a sudden vision of Glorfindel, and the way he’d been gazing at Erestor for years - probably without the Elda even realizing it - and the gleam in his eyes got brighter.

"Are you nearly packed?" Elrohir’s voice snapped him completely out of his daze. There were a few neat piles of clothes on Erestor’s desk, an open bag on the floor next to him.

"Yes. Tell me, you two have traveled much more than I - are these going to stand up to the journey?"

Elrohir obediently turned his attention to the garments - almost all of them were black, Elladan noted - while his twin’s eyes continued around the room.

Erestor’s receiving room/personal study was much like the Elf himself; plain, dark, and with the undertone of famine. Or at least how he used to see Erestor - he was quite sure he’d never be able to look at him the same way again.

The room they stood in had the desk, walls lined with bookshelves, a fireplace and two well-worn, rather comfortable chairs pulled close to it. He and his twin had learned to play chess while sitting in those chairs, a small table with the board pulled close. There were two closed doors on the far wall, and in all the centuries he’d visited Erestor’s rooms, he had yet to see inside of them.

Just like he’d never seen Erestor’s hair down, or the advisor wearing anything but darkest black.

Well, there had been the one time Ada had forbidden him to wear black; it was the time of their parent’s binding anniversary, before Nana had left for Valinor. Ada had refused to let Erestor stay in the shadows like he usually did, and told him he’d be insulted if he wore black to such a happy occasion.

Elladan nearly laughed at the memory - Erestor had calmly agreed and then shown up in a robe of deep, dark green. Ada had been furious until Nana laughed. Celebrian had always enjoyed it when Erestor turned the tables on her husband.

Now that he thought about it, hadn’t that been the first time Glorfindel’s eyes lingered on Ada’s Chief Counselor? He had looked less of the dead white scarecrow in those green robes... no. No, he couldn’t remember the first time he’d caught that odd gaze, but that hadn’t been it. It had just been more noticeable that night.

"Elladan? Come, we should Erestor to his rest." Elrohir’s words brought his attention back to the other Elves. Erestor was putting the last few garments into his small bag while Elrohir stood near the door.

"Ah, yes. We will be by to see you off at dawn, Erestor."

"Thank you again for the cloak," Erestor replied, watching as they left the room and pulled the door shut. Really, as long as he had known the twins, they occasionally managed to puzzle him. What had those stares been about? Just because he looked odd? He knew they were not so shallow as to poke fun at a strange-looking Elf. Though rare, there were others in Imladris who were different from the beautiful norm, and the twins never treated them any differently.

Ah, well. He’d never figured them out when they confused him before, why should it be any different now?

 

*

 

"All right, what was that look about?"

"What look?"

"When your eyes got all happy and shiny? I know you... you were plotting something!"

"Elrohir! Have you no faith in me?"

"No."

"All right, all right. I was just thinking of giving Glorfindel a bit of a tip. ‘Steal Erestor’s hair clips’, or something like that."

"Ah, so you’ve noticed him watching our Advisor, too? I have a better idea."

"And what is that?"

"We shall tell Ada he should pass a new law."

"And the law shall be...?"

"That all raven-haired Elves in Imladris are forbidden to braid their hair."

Both twins dissolved in laughter.

"Valar! Imagine the look on Ada’s face!"

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Erestor sighed.

He’d forgotten how much he hated traveling.

Hated the idea of tents, and bugs, and eating half-raw, half-burnt food cooked over an open fire, or dry lembas with plain water. Sharing the same conversations with the same people...

The company he was with just made it worse. Well... except for one thing. His eyes went to the front of the column, where Glorfindel rode beside his temporary Second-in-Command. The Elf who had just wed had been left in Imladris; to spend time with his new bride while handling Glorfindel’s regular duties.

He sighed softly again, reaching up to pull the hood of his new cloak further over his face. It was very early morning still; the mist was clinging to everything and he knew it would make his hair try to escape the tight braid and form into tiny ringlets around his face. He didn’t feel like being teased over them - especially with Araden riding only a few horses away. His cousin would be the first to cry out a laughing remark.

Erestor felt too sleepy to try to come up with a sarcastic remark in return.

He was rather surprised to find himself more confident than he had expected - as soon as Araden’s pale blue eyes had settled on him this morning, he’d been certain he would start shaking again - but he hadn’t. Maybe he was just too sleepy after being up for two nights in a row, or maybe his millennia away from the Mirkwood Elves had helped him build up an immunity to their taunting.

Whatever the reason, he had decided to just rely on the sharp tongue he’d developed at Imladris and let the rest take care of itself.

As long as Glorfindel didn’t get involved. He couldn’t bear the thought of being teased by his secret love.

But then, he’d never seen the blond do or say anything deliberately cruel to another Elf. It was one of the many things that made him love Glorfindel; he had such a kind heart.

He yawned, and shifted slightly in his saddle. Another thing he wasn’t used to was riding a horse; though he loved the animals, he had avoided the stables after his favorite mare had died of advanced age. He had enough past experience to realize he was going to have a very tender backside for a few days.

The prospect didn’t exactly fill him with glee.

And there was one other thing that was going to make this trip miserable. His dark eyes slanted past the Mirkwood Elves to the beautiful white mare that pranced delicately along in front of them, her mane and tail braided with silver ribbons and her bridle and saddle decorated with flowers.

Lady Riel’s mare.

And Lady Riel, riding her. Wearing a white cloak with a design of flowers etched in tiny silver threads, her hair coaxed into curls that were rapidly losing their shape in the heavy mist. She wore a crown of flowers that some maiden Elflings had presented to her and she was breathtaking.

And she knew it.

Erestor wondered again what she was doing with the party - Elrond had murmured something about Lothlorien fashions, looking puzzled, and his Chief Counselor gathered that the She-Elves of Imladris had petitioned him for a representative, to bring back sketches of the latest robes, cloaks and dresses. Lady Riel had been chosen. Erestor had to admit she always seemed to be dressed to perfection. She was probably the best choice.

That didn’t mean he had to like it.

And perfection or not, she looked rather silly dressed like that, on a mare like that, in the middle of the plain, sturdy cloaks and plain, sturdy horses of the rest of the party. Even Glorfindel had given her an odd look and moved away to his place at the head of the line. Riel seemed to be sulking, her pretty mouth turned down in a pout. Erestor knew he should feel ashamed of the wicked satisfaction that strummed in his heart over that little event.

But he didn’t.

 

*  
  
  
  


Glorfindel glanced back over the group of Elves that were his responsibility for the next two weeks, checking to make sure everything was in order. He saw Riel’s pout and ignored it; if she was going to be silly over not riding beside him, that was her own fault. This wasn’t a pleasure trip, riding out for a day of picnics and fun. She had no idea what she was getting into, but she hadn’t asked. When he’d stared at her appearance among the travelers, she’d simpered and told him she had planned it to be a surprise.

‘A romantic little trip together,’ that was what she’d called it.

Well, she’d certainly find out differently. He had no time to spare her while they rode, and would have even less when they made camp. Bad enough that he had to take care of a bunch of soft diplomats - he had a feeling Riel was going to be a nightmare.

His eyes passed over the Mirkwood Elves and settled on the slim figure in the grey cloak that rode among the Imladris diplomats. There were only two others, both assistant Counselors that had seemed immeasurably relived when told Erestor was going along. Glorfindel had found it difficult to hide his own glee at the success of his manipulations. It hadn’t taken more than a hint or two to Elrond to get the Chief Counselor numbered among his charges.

Erestor looked sleepy, he thought, admiring the way the thick eyelashes drifted over those dark eyes. He wasn’t that far away, he could see him fairly well from here. He’d given up wondering why Erestor had become so fascinating; he wasn’t one to worry about the deeper meanings behind his thoughts. Erestor was intriguing - therefore Erestor was watched.

Simple as that.

He liked the grey cloak. It was much better than the black one he’d expected. The rich material was soft and sturdy at the same time, much different than Riel’s flimsy white thing.  _That_  cloak wouldn’t last out two days. Erestor’s must have cost a nice bit of coins - he’d have to compliment the twins on their taste. They had told him how they wanted to get Erestor a gift; they had thought of a horse of his own or perhaps a tent he would not have to share. Glorfindel had suggested the cloak himself. He’d told them the idea of a horse might not please Erestor, the Counselor seemed much too busy for casual riding and a horse would need to be exercised after they returned home.

The idea of Erestor having to share a tent had given Glorfindel ideas of his own.

So he’d suggested the cloak, the twins had enthusiastically agreed - the result was the grey garment with darker grey embroidered edging and elegantly plain grey fastenings. It made Erestor look as though his skin were made of moonlight; instead of looking like he was recovering from some traumatic disease.

Glorfindel really liked the change.

He wondered how Erestor would react if he told him so?

The Captain frowned a bit as he also wondered what the twins had meant by their parting words - why would he want to steal Erestor’s hair ties? The other Elf would  _not_  be happy; he wanted to stay on his good side, not make him angry. Ah, well, he’d figure it out. Perhaps he really did look nice with his hair down, instead of in the tight braid that looked as if it could pull his scalp off.

Perhaps he should take their advice - such a hairstyle was sure to give Erestor a headache if he wore it long enough, and Glorfindel was sure the Counselor would be unlikely to loosen it at night. Erestor wasn’t the type to relax around others just because it was evening and time for rest.

Yes, he was definitely going to have to look after his obsession.

And he’d enjoy every minute of it.

 

*

 

Erestor had been sure that he’d wake up more as the day continued, but instead he found that the swaying of the horse just made him sleepier. He would have liked to just relax on her back and nap, like he had when he was an Elfling and his mare Hylidae was still alive. He’d spent hours on the big, sturdy horse, sprawled over her like she was a couch, sleeping or reading while she grazed, unconcerned. It had been one of the things Araden and the others mocked him for, but he hadn’t cared for once.

Hylidae had been his dearest - and only - friend, and he’d wanted to spend all his time with her. It wasn’t like the others had given him options or offered to let him play with them. No, they’d just laughed at him.

Erestor found himself gritting his teeth at the memory and forced himself to relax. The little mare he was riding seemed to sense his sudden emotional turmoil; she turned her head and looked at him out of a big liquid eye, then attempted to nuzzle his knee. He smiled down at her and patted her neck. She was a nice little thing, though she wasn’t Hylidae - a pretty little dapple grey like moonlight on creekstones, where Hylidae had been big for a mare and black as midnight.

Still, he found himself wondering what her name was, and determined to ask one of the escort later.

Maybe even Glorfindel...

No, he’d be wise to avoid Glorfindel. He’d be too nervous around him, with Araden and the other Mirkwood Elves watching his every move. He’d make an idiot of himself before he realized it.

Ah, he shouldn’t have thought about Araden so much. His cousin was looking at him again. And that odd expression was back in his eyes. Erestor kept his own face blank and eyes facing the front of the column; he pretended not to notice how Araden was staring. It wasn’t like he could move back to speak to him; the company had been carefully arranged and the part of the path they had reached had become rather narrow. Araden couldn’t move his flashy stallion without upsetting the whole group.

Thankfully, he had enough brains to realize that.

But Erestor was sure there was going to be a nice little sarcastic discussion around the campfire tonight. For some reason he almost smiled; he’d been barely past his majority when he’d left Mirkwood, still shy and quiet and wore his feelings ‘on his sleeve’ as his mother had said. Over the centuries he’d learned to bury them deep under his skin and had sharpened his tongue to a razor’s edge.

Araden had a shock in store for him.

He patted the little mare’s neck again and let his thoughts drift away from his cousin and toward the meetings they had scheduled in Lothlorien...

 

*

 

The evening turned out better than Erestor had expected.

The Mirkwood Elves seemed to have picked up on the respect - bordering on fear, for some of them - that the Imladris Elves held for Erestor and stayed silent around him. Araden just watched him, his pale eyes thoughtful and measuring; even when Erestor scraped up his courage and met those eyes with a questioning look, he didn’t speak.

Maybe it was just because they were tired - the first day of traveling was usually the hardest. Sore limbs and sore backsides didn’t equal good chances for comfortable evening conversation.

Erestor pulled his cloak a little closer. He’d never taken it off, though most of the other Elves had shed theirs once the fire was lit. He was just so used to his robes that he knew he’d feel naked if he sat there in just his leggings and a tunic, no matter how loose the tunic was. He yawned and watched the flames dancing. So pretty...

He never noticed when the other Elves started drifting away to their tents or to guard posts - not until two voices registered in his ears.

Two familiar voices.

"Glorfindel - you cannot be serious! After all the trouble I took to make sure I would be on this trip with you?!"

"Riel - we cannot share a tent! We are not bonded; no matter what is overlooked at Imladris, we are on a diplomatic mission and morals must be observed! Besides, I will have little time - I will be up and down all night checking on the guards."

"But, Glorfindel..."

"This is not a pleasure trip, Riel. I have serious responsibilities and I will not neglect them!"

"What about your responsibilities to your Intended?"

Erestor felt an almost audible crack in his chest when he heard that word.

"Intended? You’re a bit ahead of yourself, Riel, I have never asked..."

"Oh, come, Glorfindel! All of Imladris knows you intend to ask me to bond with you; there’s not an Elf there or in this group that will blink twice if we share a tent. I cannot believe you expect me to share with that Mirkwood She-Elf!"

"You are the only females on this trip, Riel, you will have to make due! She is probably not over pleased at the idea of sharing, either."

"Then let me come to your tent!"

"You cannot, Riel, I have a tent-mate of my own. A She-Elf sharing with one Elf to whom she is not bonded will set tongues wagging; do you want them speaking of how you share with two?"

Erestor could almost see Riel pouting, even though the Elves were behind him somewhere. They were speaking low, so their voices wouldn’t carry to the tents. He wondered if they didn’t realize he was still sitting by the fire.

"Can’t your tent-mate share with the Mirkwood Elf?"

"No, my  _male_  tent-mate cannot share with the Mirkwood She-Elf. It just puts them in the position you are trying to put  _us_ in!"

Riel’s voice took on a purr. "Oh, Glorfindel, you have no  _idea_  of the positions I want you in!"

"Riel! Enough, go to your tent. You shouldn’t speak like that where we could be overheard!"

Glorfindel’s blush was nearly audible; Erestor had to fight a grin off his face even though he felt sick at the thought of the two beautiful blond Elves lying together.

"Well! See if I offer myself to you again on this trip! Good night!" And he heard Riel’s footsteps as she flounced away.

Glorfindel approached the fire and sat down beside of Erestor, who was once again gazing into the flames, his eyes beginning to take on the lovely glaze of sleep. "Counselor, you will fall into the flames if you are not careful; let me escort you to our tent?"

Well,  _that_  certainly woke him up! He stared at Glorfindel in wide-eyed amazement. "O-our tent?!"

The blue eyes gazing at him took on a wicked gleam. "Yes, our tent. Come, the night grows late and we have an early start in the morning." He took Erestor’s arm and lifted him to his feet, practically manhandling the stunned Elf toward a small tent.

A very small tent, with one large bed made of blankets inside. Erestor gaped at it, then Glorfindel. The blond Elf ignored him and began undressing. Erestor ripped his eyes away, staring at the tent wall as his cheeks flushed hotly.

"You cannot sleep in your cloak, Erestor." Glorfindel’s voice was gentle; Erestor risked a glance and found that the Elda had only taken off his outer tunic and armor. He still wore a pair of soft grey leggings and a sky blue under-tunic.

Erestor still blushed again. He pushed back his hood and lowered his gaze to his buttons, trying to keep his hands from shaking as he unfastened them. He missed the surprised gaze that slid over his hair, small strands of which had indeed escaped in adorable little ringlets around his face, or the way those eyes turned hungry when he shrugged out of the cloak and was left in his own black leggings and a dark green tunic. The tunic might be baggy, but they simply did not make leggings that didn’t cling; Glorfindel could easily admire the shape and tone of his slender legs and leanly muscled thighs.

And admire he did.

Quite breathlessly.

He had to restrain himself from reaching out to stroke those thighs.

Erestor lay his folded cloak on top of his bag and turned to find Glorfindel staring at him with a very odd look in his eyes. "Are you all right?"

"Do you sleep with your hair braided?"

"What?"

"You should take your hair down, or you’ll have a headache tomorrow."

Erestor’s chin went up a little, hiding dismay behind arrogance. "I can take care of myself, Captain."

"I know you can, Counselor." Glorfindel gave him a teasing smirk and dropped the subject of hairstyles for now. Instead he lay down on the blankets and stretched out, smirking harder when he saw Erestor’s big black eyes go impossibly wider at his actions.

And was it just him, or was he doing his best not to let them drift over his body?

Glorfindel had forgotten any surprise or trepidation over the way his thoughts were turning. He’d always wondered about Erestor; why he was so quiet and contained, why he wore such unflattering robes and scraped his hair back tightly. The fact that his thoughts had turned to  _wanting_  the Counselor had ceased to bother him when he saw the grey-cloaked figure climbing on to Alethea, the little grey mare, at dawn that morning. He’d felt a rush of pride and protectiveness, knowing he was responsible for Erestor’s safety on this journey.

"Come and rest, Counselor. I don’t bite." He paused, then his smirk turned wicked. "Not unless you wish me to do so."

Yes, that was definitely a blush.

 

*

 

Glorfindel pretended sleep until long after Erestor’s breathing had finally evened out. It hadn’t taken the dark Elf very long to fall asleep, despite his obvious nervousness at sharing a bed. He knew it was because Erestor was not used to traveling. Perhaps, tomorrow night, he would try to have a bit of a conversation with him.

As for tonight...

As soon as he was certain Erestor was asleep, Glorfindel got up and threw back the tent flap, letting the light from the fire chase the shadows away. Erestor lay with his back to him, his braid like a black snake on the blankets. Glorfindel oh-so-carefully eased the leather fastener off the end and began to undo the raven tresses, one cautious inch at a time. Finished, he ran his fingers through the silky stuff, spreading it like a midnight shadow over the pale green blankets. He watched, fascinated, as it instantly began to form into curls and waves.

"Beautiful..." he whispered, stroking it gently, letting one small curl wrap around his finger.  _Why_  did Erestor hide this? He’d never seen anything so lovely.

And now he understood what the twins had meant.

Good advice.

He’d definitely be taking it.

At night, anyway. He wasn’t sure he wanted the other Elves to see Erestor with his hair loose - not until he had openly staked his claim on the Counselor.

Erestor was  _his_.

Even if the dark Elf didn’t know it, yet.

Glorfindel closed the tent flap and lay back down, smoothing Erestor’s hair out of the way so he wouldn’t pull on it. The other Elf murmured softly, too low to make out any words, and rolled toward him. Glorfindel, nothing loathe, opened his arms and pulled the Counselor to him, settling the dark head against his shoulder and wrapping both arms around Erestor’s waist.

Ah, yes, perfect. Erestor fit against him like he was  _made_  to lay there. Glorfindel couldn’t help but wonder how well the fit would be if he had those pretty thighs wrapped around his waist and was thrusting...

...um. Getting aroused probably wasn’t the best idea, right now.

After all, he didn’t want to frighten Erestor. As silent and lonely as the Elf had always been, it wouldn’t surprise him if he was completely untouched.  _That_  thought didn’t help his arousal any; he had to clench his hands into fists to keep them from wandering down past Erestor’s waist, to explore what was sure to be a lovely backside and to touch those thighs like he had longed to, earlier.

To be the very first to touch him...

But he wouldn’t do that without Erestor’s permission. That would be a betrayal of the fragile friendship and trust between them; the last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt the delicate-looking Elf in his arms. He knew Erestor was strong, capable of taking care of himself, but that wouldn’t excuse molesting him while he slept.

No matter how much he wanted to.

It was going to be a long night.

 

*

 

It was morning.

Lady Riel woke up with a rock poking her in the back. And her Mirkwood tent-mate had rolled over on her favorite mirror during the night - it had a lovely crack right through the middle. The Mirkwood She-Elf was wishing she could give Riel a lovely crack right down the middle of her face. What kind of an idiot slept with a mirror in the bed?!

Erestor woke up sprawled over Glorfindel, with the blond’s arms locked firmly around him. No amount of wriggling could get him free. Then he realized the froth of black around them both was his hair. Loose.

Glorfindel woke up when panicked fingers started trying to pry the leather hair-tie out of his hand. He pretended he was still asleep, wrapped both hands in Erestor’s glorious hair, and rolled over until the smaller Elf was pinned beneath him.

And in Imladris, Lord Elrond stretched and yawned and sat up and then got up and then started cleaning up - and never realized that outside his door, the usual peace of the Last Homely House was about to descend into utter chaos.

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Erestor lay perfectly still, too stunned to move.

Glorfindel...

Glorfindel was on  _top_  of him. Warm and heavy and real, big hands twisted in his hair holding him firmly in place.

Not that he really wanted to move - except it was going to be very embarrassing when the blond woke and realized what he was doing. Erestor was quite sure that  _he_  was not the one Glorfindel was dreaming of, not the one making the bigger Elf nuzzle his face into his neck and oh,  _Valar!_  Was that his  _tongue_?!

Glorfindel peeked at the dark Elf through his eyelashes, careful not to open his eyes too much. Erestor’s own dark eyes were wide with astonishment, and his cheeks were bright red.

But he wasn’t fighting.

Glorfindel grinned, knowing it was hidden by his own hair, and bent back to that slender white throat. It was quite delicious, soft and smooth and tasted rather like honey. He let his lips search leisurely until he found a spot that made the Elf beneath him gasp, made the slim hips give a tiny, involuntary thrust against the large thigh he had insinuated between Erestor’s own legs.

‘ _So responsive..._ ’ he thought, pleased, and proceeded to worship that spot until Erestor was writhing and he was grinding his own hardness against one of those pretty thighs. Erestor still wasn’t fighting, so he let go of his hair and let his hands do what they’d been aching to do all night - explore that slender body.

‘ _Valar..._ ’ was the only thought going through Erestor’s head. This had to be a dream - there was no way this was really happening, so he just let himself go with it. There was a strong warrior’s hand working its way between the fastenings of his tunic, another stroking his hip and then gripping it, shifting him slightly until Glorfindel’s erection was grinding against his groin instead of his thigh.

Erestor was quite sure he was about to die. Or explode. Or both.

That warm hand was inside his tunic, now, stroking the soft skin of his abdomen and wandering up to find a nipple, playing with it gently until it had tightened into a hard little nub. The touch sent shocks like lightning straight to his groin and he whined, feeling himself near climax.

Glorfindel moved his mouth along a delicate collarbone and moaned softly. No more than touching, and they were both still wearing their clothes, yet this was rapidly becoming the best sexual experience he’d ever had. Erestor was all soft, satin skin over surprisingly firm muscles, so slim, and sensitive to the slightest touch. And his hands were moving over his own broad back with light, shy touches, smoothing his hair away from his neck and shoulders like he didn’t dare to explore further. The very innocence of his touches were making Glorfindel’s desire burn hotter.

His thrusting became a little more desperate.

Erestor didn’t seem to mind - he sighed and his own hips tried to thrust back. Not an easy task, Glorfindel knew, with his own considerable weight pressing down on him, but the motion was intoxicating. He let the hand on Erestor’s hip slide beneath him to cup a backside that felt every bit as lovely as he’d imagined. He pushed the tunic off of one pale, creamy shoulder and mouthed the soft curve of it, giving one last hard thrust and biting down gently as he came. Marking Erestor where no one could see, since he was fairly sure the Counselor would die of embarrassment to have a love bite visible on his throat.

The feeling of Glorfindel’s teeth against his skin pushed Erestor over the edge into his own orgasm, and he relaxed beneath the blond, flushing slightly at the wet feeling of both their leggings. His fingers twitched nervously in the golden hair, sure Glorfindel was going to wake up now and be utterly horrified.

He lifted worried dark eyes and blinked to find the warrior beaming down at him, blue eyes full of satisfaction. He opened his mouth to say something - anything - and Glorfindel kissed him, lips slanting over his, a demanding tongue thrusting past his teeth to explore his mouth.

Erestor’s brain was running around in little circles, screaming to know what was going on, but his body didn’t care. His arms wrapped around Glorfindel’s neck all on their own, and his back arched in delight under the merciless onslaught of insistent lips.

He was gasping by the time the blond lifted his head. Those blue eyes were absolutely smug by now, and he wished his brain was working well enough to say something biting enough to wipe that smugness off his face. Glorfindel just smiled, and brushed a surprisingly delicate kiss over his bruised lips.

"We should get cleaned up," he said softly, "the morning meal will be ready and we leave soon."

Erestor blinked at him as he got up and changed rapidly, turning his eyes before he could stare at the vision of a naked Glorfindel. He heard the blond laugh, but he set his jaw and refused to look. A moment later and a clean, dressed Glorfindel was poised over him again.

"I’m going to see that the escort is ready. Erestor?" When the dark eyes looked at him again, he gave him his best smile, the one reserved only for the people he truly cared about.

"What?" Softly spoken.

"Thank you." Just as soft, and another of those gentle kisses.

Then the tent flap was swinging as Glorfindel vanished through it, and Erestor was left sitting on the makeshift bed, fingers on his lips as he stared after him.

 

*

 

Elrond opened his door and was immediately met by three worried-looking Elves. He raised an eyebrow in question, and they started babbling.

"The emissaries from the Trade Guild have arrived early!"

"And the guest rooms haven’t been refreshed yet!"

"They are asking where they shall stay...?"

The Lord of Imladris blinked at them. "The guest rooms are always prepared - or should be."

"Oh, well, yes..." One Elf that he vaguely recognized as an Assistant whom Erestor had replaced a century ago said, "but, you see, Lord Erestor always gives the order to have them cleaned once guests leave, and no one else thought to tell the servants, so they weren’t sure they should go ahead..."

Elrond sighed. "Well, put the Traders in the Fire Hall and offer them refreshment while the cleaners take care of the required rooms."

The former Assistant looked relieved, and ran off to do as he was bidden. The other two remained, and Elrond sighed. "Something else?"

"The patrols haven’t received today’s orders, and no one knows where the orders  _are._ "

Elrond glared at the Elf. "Whose responsibility is it to have those orders ready?"

"Lord Erestor always does it," the Elf replied, shifting a bit nervously. It was really his own responsibility, but he was hoping his Lord didn’t know that.

Elrond put a hand to his face. "I am quite sure that Erestor left orders for  _someone_  to handle this."

"Well - he said the orders for this week were ready and that they would be on his desk, but we have yet to find them."

"And why is that?"

"Well... um..."

Elrond stared at the Elf, then turned to the study he and Erestor shared when doing most of the paperwork for Imladris. He pushed open the door and stared.

Erestor’s usually neat desk was piled high with stacks of papers, scrolls, letters, and books with notes placed between the pages. Half a dozen Elves were going wildly through the stacks, disarranging what Erestor had probably carefully set out.

"I can’t find the plans for tomorrow’s banquet! Has anyone seen them?"

"They were under the scrolls to Mirkwood. How about the instructions for the blacksmith? He is demanding to know which weapons he is supposed to repair this week."

"Neither of those are as important as the treaty to the town of Yindergath! It was supposed to go along with this morning’s patrol!"

"What are you worried about? The patrol is still milling around the courtyard!"

"I  _need_  those banquet plans! The cook has to start immediately or nothing will be ready!"

"The cook’s going to have a hard time cooking if I can’t find the supply lists! Hard to make a banquet with nothing in the larder but two barrels of flour and a crock of preserves!"

Elrond nearly groaned. He hoped this was just first-day chaos. Hopefully it would settle down soon.

...but strange, he’d never noticed that Erestor did so much... what did all these other Elves do with their time, if they were falling apart now?

He’d have to have a long talk with his Chief Counselor when he got back.

For now, he supposed he’d best take care of these Elves before they started throwing things at each other.

 

*

 

Erestor skipped breakfast, determined not to even look at Glorfindel. He knew he’d never manage it without turning as red as the apples in Elrond’s orchard. He had cleaned up and then waited in the tent until he saw the other tents being taken down - then he’d gone to the horses and saddled the little grey mare himself, quietly asking her name from the Elf responsible for the horses’ care.

Then he remained with Alethea, getting acquainted, until the rest of the company was ready to leave.

As they began to sort out their places in the group, Erestor was surprised - and far from pleased - to find himself suddenly surrounded by the Mirkwood Elves. All of their horses were bigger than Alethea, and all of them were taller than he - he felt like an Elfling who had wandered into an adult’s party. He would have urged the little mare, who was already picking up on his nervousness and beginning to prance uneasily, away from them, but one Elf leaned over to catch her reins.

"Good morn, Cousin Erestor," Araden said sweetly, his blue eyes smiling at the smaller Elf.

Erestor was surprised to see little malice in them. Perhaps Araden  _had_  improved. He’d give him the benefit of the doubt. "Good morn, Araden." He deliberately left the ‘Cousin’ off; in their childhood, Araden had forbidden him to call him by that title.

A flicker went through the blond’s eyes - he almost looked sad. "Erestor... I wanted to speak to you..."

"Lord Councilor?" A firm voice interrupted. "Your place is waiting."

Erestor had never been so grateful to see Glorfindel. He gave Araden a brief nod and attempted to move Alethea forward. His cousin let go of her reins reluctantly. "Can we speak later, then?" he asked. Erestor was forced to nod, or look uncouth. Alethea was finally able to walk away, but not fast enough to miss the comments being made behind him.

"You were right, Araden, he is  _quite_  different from you."

"Such a dark little thing - all of your other relatives are tall and blond. Where did he come from?"

"He certainly must have been a surprise..."

"Well..." Araden sounded rather reluctant to speak.

Erestor was going to just leave them and their comments behind, when he saw some of the Imladris guards looking at him with beaming smiles. For an instant he was angry, thinking they were laughing at him, then he realized that the odd look in their eyes was expectancy. They were waiting for his usual razor-sharp retort to such comments.

Well, if they had decided to find some sort of pride in that, he wasn’t going to let them down!

"You’re quite right," he said calmly, knowing the Elves heard his voice when they went silent behind him. He turned narrowed dark eyes on them and their own eyes widened. Araden looked at him like he’d never seen him before. "I am very different from Araden and  _his_  family." He placed just the right delicate emphasis on ‘his’ to make them realize he did not say ‘ours.’

"And how is that? Were you just born different?" the bravest of them asked, raising his chin haughtily. His eyes flickered over Erestor, then Araden, and all the watching Elves were made well-aware of the differences between them.

But Erestor wasn’t going to mention height, or coloring, or attractiveness. "Yes," the word was like ice, "I was. I was born intelligent." He turned Alethea, and the little mare tossed her head and trotted to her place at the head of the Imladris diplomats.

Who were grinning quite broadly.

So were the Imladris guards.

So was Glorfindel, though Erestor still wasn’t about to look at  _him_.

He didn’t look at Araden, either, so he didn’t see the amazement on that face, followed by a slow, disbelieving, oddly happy little smile.

The Mirkwood Elves were very quiet for the next few hours.

 

*

 

Glorfindel was still grinning when Lady Riel managed to move her horse close to his. His brain was wrapped completely around Erestor - he ignored her until he heard the little huff of discontent.

"Glory..." she whined softly, and he winced. He really hated that little nickname. Best to speak to her, though, before she _really_ got going, and they had an audience.

"Yes, Riel?" It was with great difficulty that he refrained from calling her ‘Lady’, but he knew she would start fussing - loudly - if he reverted to being formal with her.

"Glory, I truly do not like my tent-mate. Is there  _no_  one else that I may share with? She broke my best mirror and did not even apologize. She chided me for carelessness, instead." Riel sniffed and shot a glare back at the Mirkwood She-Elf.

Who was glaring right back, while the Elves around her grinned. They had been quite amused by Lithilia’s tale of the mirror in the bed. The story was already going on to the Imladris Elves, who had been a bit less amused - the Lady Riel was their Captain’s lover, after all, and they all loved Glorfindel.

But he didn’t look very lover-like right now... perhaps there had been a rift between the two? It wouldn’t cause much heartbreak among the guards if that was so; Riel had always seemed to think that being Glorfindel’s lover made the Elves under him her servants. They’d been ordered - and not very politely - to do all sorts of inane things for her, fetch this, bring that, find me some flowers, braid my mare’s mane and tail...

Now that they thought of it, that mirror story  _was_  pretty funny...

Glorfindel blinked, wondering why all the Elves around him were starting to grin. Did he miss something? It started when Riel had mentioned the mirror.

He’d have to find out the real story behind that, he supposed. He glanced over his shoulder and saw one of the Advisors beside of Erestor leaning over to the Chief Counselor and whispering rapidly. Erestor looked vastly amused - he was visibly trying to fight off a smile.

Yes, he’d definitely have to get the rest of that story later.

"Well?" Riel demanded, her voice raising a little when she realized Glorfindel was ignoring her.

"Well, what?" The Elda asked, confused. He’d forgotten her question in wondering about the mirror.

"Well, is there someone else I can share a tent with? Perhaps you have decided that your own tent-mate is not to your liking?" She asked the last in a low voice, remembering how reluctant Glorfindel was to behave with the slightest impropriety. Silly, really, but she’d humor him for now.

Glorfindel was staring at her. His tent-mate, not to his liking?! He had a sudden vision of Erestor as he had looked when Glorfindel was leaving the tent - sitting on their blankets, curly hair in wild disarray around him, slender fingers against his lips as he stared after him, his tunic hanging off of one white shoulder, a red love-bite showing clearly against his skin, dark eyes wide with surprise and the remnants of their passion...

He swallowed hard, and shifted in his saddle. Now was  _so_  not a good time to get aroused!

"No, Riel, I am... quite  _satisfied_  with my tent-mate. And I am afraid there is no other She-Elf for you to share with. I will see if there is not some rearranging that can be done, to get you a tent of your own."

"Well," she sniffed, "I suppose that will have to do, if you are sure you will not join me."

Glorfindel rolled his eyes and didn’t answer. He wasn’t about to give up Erestor for the pouting blond beside him - he was beginning to wonder what he’d ever seen in her. She had been such fun when he’d first started courting her. Always happy to oblige him when he was between more serious lovers, usually seeking him out herself when she’d heard a relationship had ended, offering herself as company until he found someone else. He’d only slept with her twice, yet she seemed to think there was some deep and abiding bond between them, despite the fact that she, herself, had so many lovers Glorfindel had lost count of them.

And as for asking her to bind with him... ha!

He’d have to be insane.

He nudged Asfaloth into quicker motion, pulling away from Riel’s flimsy little white mare. Poor horse was already showing signs of strain, and it was only the second day of their trip. He’d have to speak to the Elf caring for the horses, make sure she got special attention. It wasn’t her fault that her mistress was so thoughtless as to bring her on what promised to be a rather grueling journey.

"Lord Glorfindel?" He turned his head as one of the guards addressed him. "There is something strange about the road ahead..."

He looked, and he saw what the Elf meant. The ground was choppy, as if there had been some sort of battle fault. There were deep gouges from hooves, and some of the trees had score marks, as though they had been hit by both sword and arrows.

"Slow them down," he ordered, switching easily into his warrior mode. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to the Elves under his care - the mission to Imladris was important, the lives of his friends and the other diplomats were important.

Erestor was so important that his throat ached, just thinking of something happening to him.

They proceeded cautiously, but it seemed safe. No Orcs came from the trees, no sounds of danger came to the listening ears. Yet something just wasn’t right - the birds weren’t singing, the trees seemed so very still...

Glorfindel raised his head sharply, his senses going on high alert? What was that?

Not a sound, nothing in sight, but something was jarringly out of place...

It was the smell. A thick, sweet scent that floated through the leaves, cloying and heavy. It was like the time Riel spilt her perfume jar all over his tunic - he hadn’t been able to breathe properly for days.

Even now, his head was beginning to spin...

He realized suddenly what was happening. He turned Asfaloth, noticing that the big stallion’s motions were slower than they should be, and tried to shout.

It came out a sad whisper, "Back! Get them back..."

But his guards to the rear were already toppling off of their horses, to be followed by the horses themselves. He saw Riel hit the ground, and her little mare take two more steps before following her into the dust.

His eyes went to Erestor, and he tried to urge his stallion to move faster as he saw his Counselor sway, then slide almost gracefully down, those big black eyes rolling back.  
 _  
No..._

He tried to go forward again, and realized he was no longer on Asfaloth, that the big horse was stumbling away from him, tottering dangerously, while he himself was on the ground. He gathered all his strength and pulled himself toward Erestor.

He managed to wrap his fingers around the other Elf’s hand before his vision began to darken.

The last thing he saw were some dark shapes appearing out of the undergrowth and coming toward them...


	5. Chapter 5

 

A lone Elf on horseback rode into the front courtyard of the Last Homely House and stared around in amazement. He’d always heard the place was beautiful, but this was far beyond his expectations.

Well, in most ways. He hadn’t expected to see a horse grazing in the formal gardens.

Maybe it was a special horse?

He swung down from his own mount and looked around for the stables. The courtyard was oddly deserted; he would have expected, at the very least, to be challenged by a guard if he wasn’t greeted by a Lord.

A young Elf came running through the courtyard suddenly, looking distracted. He stopped short when he saw the visitor. "Who are you?"

"Legolas of Mirkwood..." the young Prince replied, looking bewildered, "Did something happen here?"

"I’ll say something did!" The Elf didn’t seem overly concerned that he was speaking to a Prince, or perhaps the name ‘Legolas’ wasn’t known to him. "We allowed our Chief Counselor to go to Lothlorien,  _that’s_  what happened!" and he turned to rush into the building.

Legolas caught his arm quickly. "Where is Lord Elrond?"

"Busy! But I’ll tell him you’re here!" the Elf called back, pulling away and running on.

Legolas was left staring after him.

Imladris was certainly run along  _much_  less formal lines than Mirkwood.

He liked it.

 

*

 

Erestor’s eyes opened slowly.

He had no idea where he was - someplace cold and damp, with bristling straw under his cheek.

His head hurt.

Badly.

His body felt heavy and thick - lifting his head to look around took every bit of strength he could muster.

The room was of stone, with high, narrow, barred windows, far out of reach. Late evening sky showed in stripes between the bars. So - he was not in an underground dungeon.

He supposed that was a good thing, although this room seemed little better.

A low moan alerted him to the fact that he was not alone; he forced his eyes to look around again. It wasn’t easy, they didn’t seem to want to focus properly.

He saw most of the Imladris guards, two of the Mirkwood diplomats, and one of his own Assistant Counselors.

There was no sign of Glorfindel, Araden, or Riel.

He was lying close to the wall; he used it for support to sit up, blinking owlishly through curly strands of black. His braid was coming undone, but he wasn’t worried about that right now.

Where was he?

What had happened?

And most importantly, where was Glorfindel?

He was cold; a glance down told him his cloak and shoes were gone. Another look around the room made him realize that all the Elves wore nothing but their tunics and leggings. All their cloaks, shoes, and weapons had vanished.

The other Elves were beginning to stir. One guard and the Assistant Counselor gave Erestor odd looks; the rest ignored him, getting up on wobbly legs and leaning on one another as they tried to find a way out.

The windows were far too high to reach, and the door was solidly built and firmly fastened.

For now, they were trapped.

 

*

 

Legolas followed another Elf down a long, lovely corridor, well-lit by huge windows. Apparently, the first Elf had forgotten about him; Lord Elrond had never appeared.  _This_  Elf had wandered by about half an hour later, mumbling about supply lists and, of all odd things, chicken coops.

Legolas had asked if he knew where Lord Elrond was and the Elf had nodded absently, saying he was going to see him now. Legolas had simply followed him when he continued on his wandering, muttering way.

Imladris was so much fun!

The Elf had apparently -  _finally_  - reached his destination; he pushed open an ornate door and went inside. Legolas followed him, bright eyes curious.

An Elf he recognized, from his father’s descriptions, as Lord Elrond was sitting at a large desk, glaring at the rooster that was sitting calmly on top of some important-looking documents. "Tharin? Please tell me they’ve repaired the coop this creature is supposed to be in?"

"Nay, my Lord. No one remembers where the proper supplies are stored."

Elrond sighed. "And  _who_  is responsible for deciding where they are stored?"

"Lord Erestor..." Tharin said sheepishly.

Elrond groaned and reached for a nearby scroll. He opened it, and Legolas was even more curious when he saw hundreds of notations made on it. Elrond marked it with one more, blew on it to dry the ink, and allowed it to roll back up. Then he glanced up, and his eyes settled on the blond Elf standing behind Tharin.

"Allow me to guess... Legolas of Mirkwood?"

"Yes, Lord Elrond," Legolas said politely, his eyes dancing with amusement.

Elrond noticed, of course. He sighed and got to his feet, walking over to greet the Elf. "I am sorry I was not there for a formal welcome."

"I don’t mind."

Elrond raised an eyebrow at that, but before he could reply, another Elf ran into the room.

"Lord Elrond! The fisher-folk form LakeTown have arrived with the winter’s supply of fish - they are demanding payment, but Counselor Hiliadian insists it’s higher than last year."

"Where are the payment records?"

"They’re supposed to be in Lord Erestor’s desk, but we couldn’t find them yesterday when we needed them to pay the woodcutters, either! It’s all such a jumbled mess from looking for other things..."

"Erestor pays the fisher-folk, too?" Elrond sighed, then glanced at Tharin. "Remind me to add that to my list."

"Yes, sir."

Elrond gave the upset Elf at the door some instructions, and waited until he left. Then he turned to Legolas again. "Let me give you some advice, young Prince - if you ever find yourself King of Mirkwood,  _know_  who does the real work in your kingdom and  _never_  allow them to leave. And if they do leave, when they return, be sure to praise, pamper, reward, and supply them with a hundred assistants who have been threatened on their  _lives_  to do the work they are assigned to do!"

Legolas grinned.

He really,  _really_ , liked Imladris!

 

*

 

Erestor and the others were startled when the door to their cell suddenly slammed open.

Men stood there, roughly dressed Men with smug faces.

"Are the pretty Elves awake, then?" one asked, striding forward into the room. Several of the guards tried to get back to their feet, but they were still too weak from the effects of the potion that had knocked them out and the earlier frantic search for escape.

The Man ignored their struggles, peering at them all carefully in turn. His eyes lingered on one of the guards, a slim young Elf with white-blond hair and guileless green eyes. "Take this one and put him with the others!" he ordered, and two more Men came into the room, caught the guard’s arms, and dragged him away.

The first Man continued his survey of the captured Elves, occasionally pausing to study one or another, though he ordered no more removed. Erestor was the last he approached; the Counselor sat apart from the other Elves, once more leaning weakly against the wall.

"Well, well..." the Man said, his eyes gleaming as he studied the slender Elf. "What do we have here?" He turned back to the door, glaring at his subordinates. "How did you  _fools_  miss this one?!"

Erestor jerked as a heavy hand settled on his head, testing the texture of his hair. It moved to grasp his chin, lifting his face to the Man’s scrutiny, turning him back and forth to study him from all angles. Then the Man grunted and let go of his face.

Erestor thought he would move away, so he was more startled than before when his arm was grabbed and he was pulled roughly to his feet.

"Shall we put him with the others, too?" A Man asked tentatively.

"No," the first Man replied, his grip tightening painfully as Erestor tried to pull away. "No... I’ll be taking this one straight to the Master."

 

*

 

"Haldir?"

"Yes, my Lady?"

"The delegation from Mirkwood and Imladris... when are they to arrive?"

"They should be here within the week, my Lady."

Galadriel was silent for a moment, her usually serene face troubled. "I fear for them."

"My Lady?" Haldir was immediately on the alert - if his Lady was worried about the delegation, then something was wrong. There was no doubt of that in his mind.

"I want you to take your brothers, and as many Galahadrim as can be spared. Go and meet them... if they are in danger, rescue them."

"At once, my Lady!" The blond MarchWarden hurried from the room.

Galadriel watched him go, then turned back to her work. She thought for a moment of FarSpeaking with Elrond, but decided not to.

Not yet.

She would stay in touch with her MarchWarden; if something  _had_  happened to the Imladris Elves and those from Mirkwood, then she would let her son-in-law know.

There was no use worrying him until she knew for sure.

 

*

 

"Ada? Ada, we’re back!"

Elrond looked up sharply from his work. He’d just shooed the seventeenth chicken from his office today. Perhaps fried chicken would be a good thing to order for dinner - he had gotten no work at all done today, and revenge was sometimes sweet.

"Elladan? Elrohir?" He got up quickly and embraced his sons, looking past them to the little Elf in the doorway. "And Figwit! Thank the Valar! Do  _you_ know where Erestor has stored the boards and wire for repairing the chicken coops?"

Figwit blinked. "Er... yes, my Lord. They are in the seventh storage room, under the bedrooms in the east wing."

Elrond beamed. "Bless you, Figwit. I’m sure you are tired; but if you will only inform the carpenter of that, I will give you the rest of the evening to yourself!"

Figwit smiled, nodded, and disappeared down the hall. He wasn’t an Elf to ask questions, especially when there was desperation in Lord Elrond’s voice.

Elladan and Elrohir had turned toward the door, but two iron-gripped hands stopped them in their tracks. "Where do you two think you are going?"

"Um... to eat?" Elrohir hazarded, wide eyes studying his father’s face.

"Fine. Eat. Then, you are taking Prince Legolas, the guards I have assigned him, and as many other guards as you feel you need - find the delegation, allow Legolas to join them - but bring Lord Erestor back here if you have to tie him up and carry him over your saddle."

Elladan and Elrohir exchanged looks and snickers. "Yes, Ada!"

"And don’t laugh at me!"

 


	6. Chapter 6

The Man pulled Erestor along like he had forgotten he was holding the Elf’s arm - one moment he was walking so quickly that Erestor was having trouble keeping upright on still-wobbly legs, the next he was shouting at other Men, stopping so suddenly the Elf would slam into him or nearly fall. Erestor was quite sure his arm was going to end up bruised; the man’s grip tightened the more his anger increased. Since every other Man they saw seemed to make him angrier, Erestor was fairly certain that the thick fingers were soon going to meet.

It was becoming... rather uncomfortable.

So the next time the man stopped, the Counselor gathered every bit of strength he could scrape together and tried to jerk away.

That earned him a closed-fist blow to his jaw that sent him to his knees, head spinning and the taste of blood in his mouth.

"That’ll teach you," the man grumbled, and yanked him back to his feet, pulling him roughly on down the corridor.

Erestor was reeling now, keeping to his feet by pure instinct. His head still ached, and now his jaw had joined it. The one thought in his mind - the only thing he could concentrate on - was still worry over what had happened to Glorfindel.

He barely realized it when two huge doors swung open and he stumbled along after the Man into a fancy, high-vaulted room. It only occurred to him that something new was happening when the Man knelt, and forced Erestor to his own knees.

The voice was a pretty good clue, too.

"Ah, Ansel - what have you brought to me?"

"Master - we captured a party of Elves - this one, I thought, might please you."

"I have never seen an Elf with hair as black... and such lovely curls! But Ansel... why is there blood on his lips? and his face is a bit marred..."

"Ah - he tried to run, and had to be taught his place."

"Oh!" the voice sounded quite pleased. "So he has a bit of spirit, does he? Bring him to me."

Erestor hadn’t been able to focus his eyes enough to see who was talking. Being jerked back upright and shoved forward didn’t help much.

He stumbled, nearly fell, and strong, oddly gentle hands caught his arms and carefully righted him.

"Now, Ansel - there is no need to be so rough! So... this is the prettiest of all of them?  _Very_  nice..."

"Yes, sir. There is a blond female and two blond males that are very lovely, too. One is quite strong, a warrior. But this one..."

"Yes, yes. Dark Elves are rare; this one, I think, will prove unique. You have done  _very_ well, Ansel. I will not fail to reward you for it."

"Thank you, Master!"

"You may go now - send messengers to our purchases, tell them that we have new merchandise for their perusal. Set a viewing date for three days hence."

"Yes, sir." the Man withdrew, leaving Erestor alone with a Man whose features remained fuzzy to his unfocused eyes.

"Well, now..." the Man shifted beside him; the hands holding his arms let go. One arm slid around his waist, and his right hand was firmly grasped. "Well, now..." the words were repeated, "you look as though you need to sit down. Come, before you fall over."

He would have dearly loved to shove the Man away, but he knew he really  _would_  fall over.

He allowed himself to be guided to a chair and gently pushed down; the next thing he knew, there was a glass in his hand that smelled strongly of miruvor. The Man lifted his arm for him and urged him to sip the drink. Erestor gave a fleeting thought to poison and potions but his brain simply wouldn’t work properly; by the time he thought of it, he was already swallowing the cool liquid.

"There now - you should feel better in a moment. That potion we use leaves one a bit mucked up, but it’s necessary."

Fingers moved through his hair, smoothing the curls back from his face; they traced the bruise on his jaw and caught the thin line of blood that was trickling from the corner of his mouth. "Pity - it truly is. You mouth must be so sore... still, with the speed you lovely creatures heal, you’ll be good as new in the morning. Tell me, little one, what is your name?

The miruvor  _was_  clearing Erestor’s head - he decided to play at confused and submissive until he learned exactly what was going on. He allowed his voice to go soft and to stammer a bit. "E-Erestor."

"Mmm... quite nice. It suits you. Now tell me this, little Elf - have you a lover?"

Erestor nearly fell out of the chair - he  _did_  drop the goblet. It was not so much shock at the question as a sudden flash of memory, Glorfindel’s firm body pressed against his own. He didn’t  _have_  to fake the stammer as he tried to come up with a reply. "I... I-I..."

The voice chuckled softly, sounding quite pleased. "Are you shy, pretty Erestor?" The hands came back, stroking his face again and forcing him to lift his chin. Erestor flinched and jerked away, and the Man chided him, "Now, now - I won’t hurt you, my lovely."

"I’m not lovely!" Erestor protested, wishing desperately that the Man would leave him alone.

"Well - either you are foolish, or you have never looked in a mirror, or you have been lied to all your life." The Man sounded highly amused.

Erestor just shook his head - even his own mother had called him ‘plain, but with a lovely disposition’. All those hundreds of Elves who had made jokes and whispered about his appearance through the millennia couldn’t  _all_  be lying.

Beautiful Elves did not earn the title ‘Death’s Head.’

He began to fidget nervously when the Man leaned closer. "Let me assure you, Erestor, you are  _quite_  lovely. The most beautiful Elf I have ever seen, and I have seen  _quite_  a few!" The hands came back once again, gently taking his own, thumbs rubbing the backs in soft circles. "I very much desire you, Erestor."

The Elf blinked at him, big dark eyes going impossibly wider with shock.

"Oh, you needn’t worry! I know that your kind cannot be taken against your will without dire consequences. I will not force myself upon you; I have no desire to see you fade like a flower, plucked too soon."

"Then... what  _will_  you do?" Erestor asked, his eyes still wide and his throat gone painfully dry.

"Why, keep you here, of course - though I could get a pretty price for you from someone who is not so patient as me, who would not care if you died after they got what they desired. I, however, am more than willing to wait until you accept me."

"Wait for how long?!" Erestor demanded, staring at the Man. His vision was beginning to clear; he could make out crisp brown hair, cut short, and a broad-featured face with green eyes and a selfish, petted mouth. The Man’s expression was benign, but there was a lustful, leering look to his eyes.

Erestor shuddered. He did not like that look - he would not trust this Man’s promises.

He tried to ease his hands out of the other’s grasp, but the Man only tightened his grip until it was close to painful.

"Why do you struggle against me? I will not hurt you, and I told you I would not force you. You have nothing at all to fear from me." The Man studied him for a moment. "Perhaps you need to rest. I will have a guard take you to your chambers. I regret that it must be a cell, for now, but you will find it a most comfortable one." He stood and rang a small bell that had been sitting on a nearby table; a Man in armor responded instantly.

Erestor couldn’t make out what they were saying; the so-called ‘Master’ moved to the door to speak with his underling, and his sharp Elven hearing seemed muted and dim. Probably a lingering side-effect from the vapors that had caused them all to collapse.

He forced himself to remain huddled in the chair, trying to look confused and defenseless. The guard had to haul him to his feet; even though the Master ordered him to be gentle, Erestor made the Man half-drag, half-carry him down the corridor and up a flight of stone stairs. He unlocked a heavy door and pushed Erestor through.

The Elf stared around him. It was a cell, all right, but far from what he expected. It was huge, with several big, comfortable beds. There were tables and chairs and shelves with books - and other Elves. The pretty young guard that had been dragged away earlier was there, so was Lady Riel and Araden, and the other Elves that had been missing from the first cell.

And Glorfindel.

Erestor nearly fainted with relief.

Even though Glorfindel was laying on one of the beds, obviously still out of it, and Riel was hovering over him, wringing her hands in distress.

Erestor stayed at the door, half-frozen, wishing he could go and stand near his secret love but knowing Riel would object.

Loudly.

She was notorious for her scathing response to anyone else’s interest in her lover; though Glorfindel himself scoffed at it. When he was involved with someone other than she, he usually protected them from her comments and occasional attempts to humiliate them... but the blond  _wasn’t_  involved with Erestor.

The dark Elf told himself that very firmly. He had no explanation for what had happened in their tent, but he had a sinking suspicion it had been a whim on Glorfindel’s part. Probably already regretted.

He nearly leapt out of his skin when arms slid around him.

"Cousin... thank the Valar! I was worried about you."

He stared up into Araden’s eyes, and nearly fainted again when he saw true concern in their light blue depths. "Wha...?"

Araden looked chastened. "I have a lot to apologize for, Erestor, and a lot to explain... can you bring yourself to sit and talk to me?" He put out a cautious hand and gently tugged an escaped curl. "We’ll start with my apologizing for ever making fun of this."

Erestor gaped at him for a moment, then his eyes swung back to Glorfindel.

"He’ll be all right," Araden said, his voice still pitched low. "All the Elves that were at the front of the company - at least the ones in here..." he pointed to two other beds, with sleeping figures that Erestor hadn’t noticed yet "... have yet to wake up. But they’re breathing, and they just seem asleep. I don’t think there is cause for worry. Please, come and sit down?" He took Erestor’s arm and lightly tugged him toward a comfortable looking, padded couch.

Erestor allowed himself to be led, still looking over at the bed the blond warrior was resting on.

He had no idea he was being watched.

 

*

 

"So, that’s your weakness, my lovely," the Man whispered, gazing at Erestor through the tiny hole in the stone wall. His eyes had lost none of their lust and greed as they raked over the slim form of the Counsellor.

He had lied to Erestor about being willing to wait - he had long experience with luring - or forcing - Elves into his bed. All it took was a weakness he could exploit, and they would give themselves to him. Reluctantly, but he didn’t care. As long as he could enjoy them for a much longer time... eventually, they  _did_  fade, but it took months, sometimes years, instead of days or weeks.

Long enough for him to sate himself with their beautiful bodies, and become bored.

Though he wasn’t sure he’d ever be bored of this one - he’d never seen such a sweet little thing before. Most Elves were much taller, and he’d never in all his years of capturing them seen one with curls. What was his name... oh, yes, Erestor. Erestor was charming.

He wanted him.

His eyes slid back to the still-sleeping blond.

And he knew  _just_  how to get him.

 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

"What  _is_ this?" Elladan asked, voicing everyone’s question aloud.

The bit of road looked like a battle scene - they could see where horses had fallen, and the prints of bodies in the mud. Yet there was no blood, and none of the bodies had been left. Even the horses were gone.

Orcs might take the bodies, but there would be plenty of blood and broken weapons left behind. Here, there was nothing.

"There aren’t any tracks beyond. At all," Elrohir’s voice was oddly cold. "Our Elves went no further down the road - but there are tracks of Men further back in the trees. Tracks of Men carrying burdens."

"Tracks of very unlucky men, who will regret the day they were born," Elladan corrected.

Elrohir smiled.

It was a particularly nasty smile, especially for an Elf.

The twins were fond of all the Elves of Imladris of course, but Glorfindel was their especial friend. He’d taught them to use the sword and to shoot with a bow, how to ride and swim and hunt. He was the Guardian of Imladris and they adored him.

And Erestor - he was another father to them. The thought of something happening to Erestor made a far-away sick feeling start deep within them. They fought it down for now - they needed their all their concentration on puzzling out what had happened here.

"They were traveling at a normal pace," Elrohir said softly, studying the ground. "They didn’t slow until they came around that bend in the road and saw this place. So they sensed nothing wrong."

Elladan, Legolas, and the other guards remained quiet, listening. Tracking was Elrohir’s specialty.

"They slowed but didn’t stop - so they knew something was going on, but weren’t sure what it was. Then the front riders tried to turn back, but the horses started falling, and the Elves started falling... there are tracks of Men everywhere. They are light when they come, heavy when they leave. They carried them away. They waited for the horses to get up... or wake up, I don’t know... and then led them away. Asfaloth broke free - his tracks follow theirs, but at a distance. He’s following Glorfindel."

"Which direction?" Elladan asked softly. He was going to make these Men  _pay_...

"North. They went North. There’s a small village there - and an old fort. It’s been abandoned for years, but I’ve heard some so-called noble Man took it over a few months ago."

"That’s where we’ll go, then," Elladan growled. Orcs had taken their Nana from them, they would  _not_  let Men take Erestor.

Or Glorfindel.

"Someone is coming," Legolas said, speaking for the first time since they had reached the scene.

"Get in the trees," Elladan said sharply, and they all vanished from the road.

 

 

*

 

 

Erestor waited silently, gazing at Araden.

His cousin seemed nervous, now that he was about to talk to him. He looked everywhere but at Erestor, fiddling with his sleeves and the ends of his hair.

Normally, Erestor would have said something calming to such a nervous Elf, but he didn’t trust himself not to make Araden’s unease worse. All his memories of the blond were bad memories - he couldn’t recollect a single good thing about him. At least, so far as it concerned himself. He knew he was a good son to his parents, and a good Advisor to Tharanduil, but that was about it.

"I’m sorry!" The blond blurted suddenly, gazing hard at the floor.

Erestor blinked. "For what?"

Araden finally looked at him. Stared, actually.

"For being such a foul little beast to you, when we were Elflings."

"Oh," he replied, and waited for the rest.

"You don’t sound the least bit surprised," Araden said. He himself sounded rather peeved.

Good. That was what Erestor remembered. He knew how to deal with  _this_  Araden. "Should I be?"

"I expected at least a  _bit_  of surprise," his cousin huffed.

"You’re an Advisor. A Counselor. Others expect you to say what you think they want to hear, so long as it does not harm your agenda." ‘ _Or sometimes, even if it does, so long as you get your way in the end._ ’ He couldn’t help the bitterness of the thought. He was quite sure Araden regretted teasing him about as much as  _he_  regretted letting Glorfindel touch him

Which wasn’t a lot.

"And you are the same, yet you do not speak what  _I_  want to hear."

"Ah," Erestor smiled without humor. "I am  _not_  the same; I’m the only Counselor in Imladris who doesn’t speak to please everyone."

"Yet Elrond and his family seem remarkably fond of you."

Erestor sighed, gazing at Araden through a mist of curls that were hanging in his eyes. He was tired - he was suddenly so very, very tired. "Is that what this is about?"

"What?" Araden gaped at him; for such a lovely Elf, he looked remarkably like a fish. "No - Erestor, I... I took a She-Elf as my Bonded, a decade ago."

"How nice," Erestor said blankly, not sure what to think about the sudden change in subject.

"You didn’t know, did you?" Araden waited for a response, when he didn’t get one, he plowed ahead. "Do you remember how I used to call you a changeling, and said you were ugly, because of the color of your hair and your eyes, and you’re _so_  small, and I told you there was no way you were truly of our blood?"

‘ _I’m not likely to forget,_ ’ Erestor thought bitterly, remembering his childhood, with all the anguish an Elfling felt from the constant ugly taunts of his playmates and the family that was supposed to love him. "Yes."

"I knew you would. Two years ago - two years ago, my wife gave birth to our daughter."

"How nice," Erestor repeated flatly. Another small-minded, mean-souled Elf to add to his family. He’d have to scrape up a gift. What did one send for female Elflings? He’d ask Arwen.

If he ever saw her again.

"She doesn’t have curls."

"Oh." What was that supposed to mean, ‘she doesn’t have curls?!’ Of course she didn’t, only one freakish Elf in a million had curls.

"But she  _is_  small, and very pale, and has hair like midnight and eyes like the night sky. She’s beautiful and I love her and I’m so very sorry I ever said a cruel word to you."

Erestor gaped.

That’s all he could do.

Every bit of training he had in the fine art of being an Advisor, being Lord Elrond’s best,  _Chief_  Counselor, all the layers of sarcasm and biting words he’d coated himself in through the millennia couldn’t help him right now.

Because Araden hadn’t been the only one. All his Elfling cousins, most of the adults, had sneered and called him changeling, and wondered what his father was. On dark evenings, when he was supposed to be asleep, he had heard his Nana talking about him with the other mothers, sighing that his father had been a lovely blond, just like her, and she didn’t know where Erestor had sprang from; she sometimes wondered about the changeling tales. Maybe they were true.

And now - and now, his tall, blond, perfect family had brought forth  _another_  little dark Elfling...

What did that mean?

"Are you all right? Erestor?" Araden reached out to him, only to have his hand caught and held.

"Leave him alone," a voice rasped, and both of the Elves on the couch stared up at Glorfindel, who looked only a little wobbly on his feet, only a tiny bit worse for wear. Riel was fluttering around behind him, but he only had eyes for the curly-headed creature gazing at him in surprise.

He’d heard most of Araden’s apology, read a bit between the lines, and now his blood was boiling.

So  _that_  was why Erestor tried to hide himself. Taught too young that different was bad.

Been told that he was ugly, instead of the beautiful star he truly was.

Well, he’d just have to convince him differently, wouldn’t he?

"Come along, Counselor," he rasped, lifting Erestor almost bodily from the seat. "You are tired. What happened to your face?"

Once more an arm was around Erestor’s waist, and fingers were touching his wounded jaw. But it was mightily different this time, and he didn’t want that arm and those fingers to go away. Glorfindel led him to the bed he himself had just vacated and pushed him down, with another order to rest.

Erestor stared at him for a moment, then turned his eyes away, allowing them to take on the glaze of sleep even though he wasn’t quite gone yet. He was tired, though, and it was easier than trying to explain what had happened to his face. He didn’t want Glorfindel to know what that Man had said to him.

And he  _definitely_ didn’t want Araden to know.

He heard Riel start squawking about something, but ignored her. He heard Glorfindel start questioning where they were and what was going on. None of the other Elves seemed to know why the Men had captured them; Erestor did, but he knew it would cause a panic if he spoke. He would tell Glorfindel... later...

Right now, he needed to sleep.

 

 

*

 

 

Glorfindel was making plans with the few guards in the room when the door crashed open, surprising them.

Men stood there, armed to the teeth and glaring. One impressively big Man moved to the front, staring straight at Glorfindel. "Don’t even think of trying anything." He looked around the room, and his eyes settled on Erestor, who was still asleep. He wasn’t the only resting Elf, but the others were stirring.

Erestor didn’t budge.

That was worrisome. Did his smaller stature mean the potion had affected him more strongly? He’d seemed so tired, but Elves didn’t need much sleep. Glorfindel took a step toward him, but a lifted sword warned him back. He fumed, but he couldn’t do much when he was unarmed.

The Man strode over to the bed and grabbed Erestor’s arm, dragging him off the mattress. The Elf blinked and then struggled to stay on his feet, looking no more rested than he had earlier.

Glorfindel growled and nearly attacked anyway, when the Man dared to touch  _his_  Counselor! but he stopped when a thick finger was pointed at him. "You. Come with us, and don’t cause any trouble." Eyes slid over the Elves, then he pointed to Araden and Lady Riel. "And you two. Come on."

Soldiers moved to take hold of the other three Elves while Ansel dragged Erestor along again. The small Elf’s sluggish response didn’t surprise him; he’d seen his Master give him miruvor. The tricky Man would have drugged it; the drink would wake him up long enough to make his intentions known, then the potion would put him to sleep while Master plotted further.

He was actually rather surprised that the little thing could even focus - Erestor went up slightly in his estimation.

He took the Elves back to the big room that Erestor remembered from before, with the Man called ‘Master’ sitting in his high-backed chair, surveying them calmly.

None of them had a chance to speak, the Man froze them to silence with his first words.

"Warrior Elves like you are much too difficult to handle," he purred, looking straight at Glorfindel. "You’re nice to look at but not worth the effort - I’ve decided to put you to death."

"No!" All three of the other Elves cried at the same time, struggling against the Men who held them.

"Oh, you don’t want me to?" the Man raised a lazy eyebrow. "Well, let's discuss this, then. Ansel, take the warrior to a holding cell. Make sure he’s alone."

"Yes, sir," the other Man replied, and drug a protesting Glorfindel from the room - with the help of several other Men.

The Man on the throne-like chair eyed the remaining Elves. "If I make them let you go, will you promise to be good?"

He got three rather sulky nods as his reply, and waved a hand at his Men. "Let them go, and leave. Stay outside the door until I call you."

They obeyed.

The room was very silent.

"Well," the Man finally spoke. "You don’t wish me to kill the warrior, but why should I not? I captured him, he’s mine to do with as I please." At the glares he got in return, he chuckled. "However, I’m willing to make a deal with one of you."

Araden and Erestor exchanged glances, Riel just looked confused.

"What sort of deal?" Araden asked, his voice suspicious.

"Oh, just that I’m very fond of Elves.  _Willing_ Elves, if you understand me. Now, you three are the nicest of the whole group I have - if one of you comes to me, willing to let me do as I please, I’ll spare his life."

Araden gaped.

Riel blinked.

Erestor spoke. "What certainty would we have?"

"Erestor!" Araden gasped, "you can’t!"

"What certainty?" Erestor repeated, ignoring his cousin.

"What certainty do you want?" the Man asked, leaning forward, his eyes hungry on the disheveled Elf.

"Let him go."

"Let him  _go_? To tell all the other Elves what is going on here?"

Erestor shrugged. "How else would I know you wouldn’t just kill him later?"

"You have a point... and it’s not as if I’m not well-protected. Very well, I’ll let him go, and you can watch him leave." He turned his attention back to the other two Elves, pointing at Araden. "You’ll not offer to save his life?"

"I... I..." The blond Advisor looked sick, his eyes wild. "I cannot. I have already Bonded, even willingly, I would fade and my wife..."

"Ah, I see." The Man looked rather amused. "Hard luck for you, when I sell you, then."

Araden turned pale.

"What of you? My guards tell me you wail over him like a lost lover?" the Man asked Riel.

"You want me to  _sleep_  with you?! You’re a Man!" Riel looked disgusted.

"Not even to save your blond warrior’s life?"

"He would never want me to do that!" she replied, tossing her head arrogantly.

The Man smiled at Erestor. "It seems you are the most noble Elf here, little one, beyond being the loveliest. Come here." He held out his hand.

Erestor swallowed.

Bowed his head.

Thought of Glorfindel’s blue eyes shining at him.

And went.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Glorfindel was furious.

He didn’t care a bit that he was alone in this rather nasty cell, or that the threat of death was hanging over his head.

He didn’t know if Erestor was safe, and it was driving him crazy!

...and he didn’t like the way that Man had been looking at  _his_  Counselor!

He was just debating how hard it would be to rip the iron bars off the window with his bare hands when the door slammed open and three Men came in. They grabbed his arms and started dragging him down a hall. He went willingly enough - there was no chance for escape in that cell, but out here it was a different story.

He was surprised when they didn’t lead him to another cell - or worse, to an execution chamber - but took him outside, instead. He looked around for a beheading stone or a hangman’s noose - those were Men’s preferred methods of execution, he knew - but once again, they managed to surprise him. They shoved him up on a ratty little horse, tied his hands together, and then led him from the courtyard.

Instinct turned his head, made him look back at the fort.

A small figure stood at one of the few large windows, watching as he left. Even at this distance, he was certain it was Erestor. He felt a growl rumbling deep inside his chest when he saw the larger figure of the Man lurking behind the small counselor. Saw him reach out toward the little, dark figure -

\- then the trees cut off his view, and he swore.

 

 

*

 

 

"All right - you’ve seen he’s gone. Safe. Now come with me." The hand that grasped Erestor’s shoulder was firm, forcibly turning him away from staring at the spot where Glorfindel had disappeared. He was silent as he was dragged past Araden, who was protesting and pleading, and Riel, who was just blinking and looking rather confused.

The Man called some of his soldiers in to prepare those two to ‘a cell apart from the others’, then he pulled Erestor into an inner chamber. The Counselor gave one last glance to Araden, who was gazing at him in open horror, then the door closed behind them.

The man left him standing at the door and strolled into the room - it wasn’t a bedchamber, he was happy to see, but there was a wide, comfortable couch that gave him some qualms. The Man poured out two large glasses of wine and pushed one into his hands.

"Drink that - it will settle your nerves. Don’t worry, my lovely, I have no intention of hurting you."

It wasn’t being hurt that Erestor was worried about. His hands were already shaking so hard he could barely hold onto the ornate goblet, but he lifted it and drained it, anyway.

"There now," the Man crooned, almost in his ear - when had he moved so close?! "That’ll make you feel better. Don’t worry, little pet, we’ll take this slow. We have plenty of time."

Those words weren’t exactly comforting. He allowed the man to take the goblet from his hands, but shied away from the touch against his cheek.

"Now, now... we made a bargain, remember? I can always send soldiers on fast horses after them!"

Erestor gritted his teeth, but forced himself to stand still as the hands moved through his hair, then to his neck, stroked his shoulders and began to unlace his tunic.

"Take this off," the Man ordered, his voice husky.

Erestor shook harder, but obeyed, his own hands slow and reluctant as he pulled the loose tunic over his head. The larger hands were instantly on him, stroking his sides, fingers plucking at his nipples while the voice cooed over how pretty he was. He frowned, feeling oddly dizzy, and batted mildly at the exploring hands.

The Man laughed. "I see the potion is beginning to take effect," he murmured, pulling Erestor close and running his hands down his back, settling them on that lovely round bottom and squeezing almost reverently.

"Wha’... potion...?" Erestor asked, wondering why his mouth felt like it was full of cotton-wool.

"The one in the wine, of course. You may be small, but I know a fighter when I see one. It’s just to make you a bit more ...compliant. Nothing at all to hurt you." He left one hand still cupping a firm cheek, while the other slipped up to trace Erestor’s lips. "I believe I know what I want to do first - I wonder how good you’ll be at it?"

Erestor just blinked at him.

He laughed again.

 

 

*

 

 

"Valar... oh, Valar..." Araden was pacing in the outer chamber, waiting for the Men to return and drag them off to their new cell, waiting for Riel to stop babbling about how Glorfindel would be so proud of her.

Waiting to hear screams behind that door - but it was deathly silent.

"What exactly  _is_  Lord Erestor doing in there?!" The Lady demanded suddenly, narrowing her eyes at the door. "Is he negotiating with that Man?"

"Oh, you could say that," Araden answered, feeling hysteria coming on. ‘ _Or, you could say he was letting that man_ rape _him so your precious Warrior can live_.’ He didn’t say that last bit out loud. He had no doubt this creature would scoff at the idea; he wouldn’t let Erestor’s sacrifice be laughed at.

He hoped that blond Elf was worth it.

Erestor had been hurt enough in his long life, by the family who was supposed to love him and by the Elves he took such splendid care of in Imladris - Araden was neither blind nor deaf, he’d heard the whispered jokes about his cousin while he was staying there. Once, he would have participated in them, but no more. Not after his darling little Isilia had been born.

If Lord Glorfindel didn’t bond with Erestor for this, Araden was going become a kinslayer.

Never mind that he had no idea how to handle a sword, he’d gut the Elf with a serving fork.

Someone would  _have_  to bond with his cousin, after all - it was the only thing besides sailing for Valinor that might prevent him from fading. And if that Warrior didn’t think Erestor was a worthy mate, after what he’d agreed to do...

Valar - it had been what? a half-hour since the Man had taken Erestor into that room? Lady Riel had stopped whining about her Warrior and was studying the decorations on the wall with a critical eye. Araden went to the door and listened hard - he heard the Man moan softly, and chills went down his spine.  _Valar_...

Erestor...

He wanted to scream, to knock the door down and drag his little cousin out of there. How could anyone do this to an Elf - Erestor was going to fade, and he’d never truly been allowed to live!

He couldn’t take this anymore - he couldn’t just roam around the room while  _any_  Elf, especially not his own cousin, was violated by a Man who didn’t care that the being he was forcing himself on would die because of his actions. He lifted his hands to start pounding on the door when a dozen soldiers burst into the room -

\- shoved him aside, and started doing the pounding for him.

"Master! Master, you must come - we are under attack!"

 

 

*

 

 

Glorfindel sat quietly on the little horse, waiting for the perfect moment to strike out at these Men. The morons had only tied his hands loosely; he could be free in a few seconds. He might not have any weapons, but he had his fists, didn’t he? And he was one of the few Elves who knew how to use them.

They weren’t five minutes from the fort when he started easing his hands free; at the same time, movement and sound in the woods ahead caught all their attention. Glorfindel looked up sharply to see Asfaloth standing there, the proud stallion’s eyes outraged at seeing his master on another horse!

So, of course, he charged the scruffy little gelding.

Glorfindel didn’t quite have his hands free, so he abruptly found himself sitting on his butt on the forest floor, watching as Asfaloth chased his former steed, screaming shrilly at the unfortunate beast.

The Men just sat on their horses, gaping.

Glorfindel got to his feet only to feel himself yanked back into the undergrowth. His startled exclamation was cut off by a hand clapped over his mouth - he stared up to see Elladan frowning at him warningly.

"Where’d that Elf get to?" one of the Men in the clearing asked worriedly. "We got to slit his throat out here, or Master won’t be pleased with us!"

"He prolly be hidin’ in the weeds," another said, "start huntin’ for him!" All three swung down from their horses and began poking the underbrush with their swords.

"Take them," Elladan whispered, and the searchers were suddenly pounced by several dozen Elves. They were flat on their backs and bound up like trussed chickens before they could even squawk.

"What’s going on? Where is everyone else?" Elrohir demanded of Glorfindel as soon as the Men were taken care of.

"I’m not sure what’s going on - but everyone else is back at that Fort, I hope. Their ‘Master’ decided I would be too much trouble, and they were ordered to kill me."

"Erestor?" Elladan didn’t have to elucidate.

"He’s back there, too."

"Unharmed?"

"I’m not sure..." Glorfindel said, remembering Erestor’s hazy eyes and slow movements. "They brought him to the cell I was in much later than the others; and I think they may have given him some sort of drug, beyond the potion they used to put us to sleep."

"Why?" Elrohir’s eyes were worried.

"Again, I don’t know." But he could guess - if he had read the look in that Man’s eyes correctly. But he wouldn’t make the twins angrier than they already were by voicing vague suspisciouns. No, they just needed to get back there and rescue Erestor - and everyone else, of course! - right now.

Right now.

 

 

*

 

 

There was a sudden, soft thump inside the room, and a surprised yelp - then angry footsteps approaching. "What’s going on?" the Man bellowed, yanking the door open. Araden saw his shirt was hanging open and his leggings were partially unlaced.

His stomach attempted to climb out his throat.

"We’re under attack, Master, by dozens of Elven Warriors! They wear the colors of both Imladris  _and_  Lothlorien! What shall we do?"

"Are the defenses holding?" the Man demanded, adjusting his clothing and stalking toward the outer door, leaving the chamber open behind him.

"For now, Master, but how long we can hold them off is uncertain. They are like devils, sir, possessed!" The Men all went out, their voices trailing away.

Araden bolted for the inner chamber, stopping in the doorway and raking his eyes over the room. He didn’t see Erestor at first, and his heart tried to sink down past the stomach that was still working its way up.

Then he saw a slight movement on the far side of the couch, and hurried forward.

Erestor sat on the floor, his tunic gone but his leggings thankfully in place. His braid had been undone, leaving his hair a loose waterfall of curls around him. His head rested on his bent knees and his slender arms were wrapped around them. The whole small figure screamed dejection.

"Erestor? Please look at me," Araden said, kneeling carefully and petting the soft hair. "Erestor, please! What did he do?"

"A-Araden?" Big black eyes, oddly tearless, blinked up at him. "Where did... he go?" Erestor’s speech was badly slurred, like he’d spent an evening drinking.

"Someone is attempting to rescue us. Erestor, what did he do?"

"Gave... me some... thing... in wine..." Erestor tried to sit up straight and ended up listing against his cousin. "Araden?"

"Yes?"

"Help m-me... where is... my tunic?"

Araden’s sharp eyes found it wadded up on the couch. He helped his cousin back into it and fastened the buttons for him when Erestor’s trembling fingers could not. "Erestor - did he...?"

"N-no!" Erestor said sharply, finally managing to sit up straight. "No, he left... too soon. D-did you ...say rescued? Should ...we try to ...leave?"

"Can you walk?" Araden asked, hauling the shorter Elf to his feet. Erestor swayed, but stayed upright.

"I don’ ...know ...try."

"Erestor..." Araden slipped his arm around him. "You were in here for a half-hour - he had to be doing something to you."

The black eyes blinked, then lowered, refusing to look at him. "I don’ ...wanna talk ...’bout it..."

"Erestor - you have to! Your Lord will need to know, and Glorfindel..."

"No!" Erestor said sharply, his voice momentarily losing the slur. "No, Araden! Neither of them, and especially not Glorfindel! Tell neither!"

"But Erestor - you’ll fade..."

"I won’t! He didn’t do enough... to make me fade..." Erestor swayed against him again, starting to shake. "You... said you were... s-sorry... you make it up to ...me. Don’t... tell him. Them. Don’ want... them to know..."

"He should bind with you, Erestor," Araden said softly, not noticing the soft gasp from Lady Riel, who stood in the doorway. "He can make sure you don’t fade, that way."

"No! H-he doesn’t... l-love... I won’t force him into... no! Don’t tell him!" Erestor was sounding frantic, and Araden knew he needed to calm him down.

"All right - all right, cousin. I won’t speak a word of it." ‘ _Not unless I see you starting to fade,_ ’ he added mentally, but not out loud.

"Thank... you..."

"But he’s an honorable Elf, I think - if he knew what you were willing to go through for him..." Araden tried one more time, leading his weaving, swaying cousin into the outer chamber.

"No... you promised..."

"All right," he sighed dramatically, thinking of the way Glorfindel had leapt to Erestor’s defense earlier, when he’d been apologizing. He had a feeling his cousin was wrong about Glorfindel’s affections.

Araden finally remembered that Lady Riel was there; he turned to find her watching them with a calculating look in her eyes. "Lady? Will you see if that door is bolted?" He nodded toward the outer door, needing both hands to hold onto the listing Elf next to him.

She moved to it wordlessly, and flung it open just in time for Glorfindel, Elladan, and Elrohir - and dozens of Elves she didn’t know - to burst into the room. The first three ignored her, moving straight to Araden and his burden.

"What happened?" Elrohir demanded, pushing Erestor’s hair back and peering into the vague eyes.

"The Man gave him something to drink. It had some sort of potion in it."

"What was it intended to do?"

"I don’t know," he replied truthfully.

"This is not good," Elrohir murmured, then scooped his mentor up into his arms. "‘Fin? We need to get him to Imladris, and Ada."

"Yes," Glorfindel said, his blue eyes wide with worry. "He’s had the potion they used to make us sleep, and I think they gave him a second one later, so this makes three."

Elrohir’s grip tightened, his eyes flashing angrily. "Find the leader," he demanded of his Elves, "make him tell us what he gave Lord Erestor."

They nodded and left the room.

Glorfindel would have dearly loved to snatch his Counselor out of Elrohir’s arms and cradle him in his own, but he knew he had duties to fulfill. Besides, Elrohir and Elladan would rather cut off their own legs than see more harm come to the dark Elf. "I’ll go and open all the cells."

"Good," Elladan replied, glancing up from gazing worriedly at Erestor. "Gather them all out in the courtyard, and let us make sure no one is missing. Free every prisoner in this place, not just our own."

"Of course," Glorfindel nodded, and nearly ran out of the room. The sooner he finished this, the sooner he could get back to his Counselor.

Lady Riel watched him go, then turned back to stare at the limp form Elrohir was holding, glaring when she saw Elladan’s concerned eyes, saw an Elf she recognized as the MarchWarden of Lothlorien, Haldir, enter the room with an Elf wearing royal Mirkwood clothes, and they, too, spared her no more than a look. They clustered around Erestor, who was just gazing off into nothing.

How dare they ignore her like this?!

And Glorfindel - he’d not even spoken to her, to ask after her well-being! She remembered Araden’s soft words about binding and felt enraged -

\- then thoughtful. If Glorfindel was so honorable that strange Elves were sure he would bind with Erestor over the Counselor’s ridiculous actions... then he would be  _certain_  to bind with her!

...at least, after she told him her new little story...  
  



	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did warn about the fluffy sweetness, right? Well, get your insulin shots ready...

"Still nothing?" Glorfindel asked, moving Asfaloth closer to the big grey steed Elrohir was riding. The younger twin still had Erestor cradled in his arms, wrapped in the cloak they’d given him. One of the Men they’d fought had been wearing it; Elladan had ripped it off of him after knocking him unconscious.

"No - he’s awake but he’s not speaking." Elrohir looked down and stroked his teacher’s cheek gently, trying to get the unfocused eyes to turn in his direction.

Nothing. No response at all.

Glorfindel sighed. He’d still like to be holding Erestor himself, but he also knew he needed to keep a sharp watch on this return journey. There was no telling if there were more Men lurking about - and Orcs had a way of sensing when a group had weaker members. Half the captured Elves were still a bit dizzy from the sleeping potion, though none were in the state Erestor was in.

They were taking them  _all_  back to Imladris. It was closer, and they wanted to take no chances with lingering side-effects. The negotiations in Lothlorien could wait; Galadriel and Celeborn would understand.

Glorfindel reluctantly moved his horse away, returning to the front of the group to ride alongside Haldir and Legolas. Those two seemed to have developed an immediate rapport; they worked together to guard the others like they had been partners all their lives. Glorfindel had plans to tease them mercilessly about this, especially after he noticed Legolas blush when Haldir glanced at him.

Later, of course. He’d save his teasing until  _after_  Erestor snapped out of his daze. He couldn’t spare enough concentration for it now.

 

*

 

Elrohir looked up when another horse moved to take Asfaloth’s place. He’d expected Elladan, but Rumil’s beautiful eyes met his instead.

"Will he be all right?" The youngest of the three Lothlorien brothers asked, clearly worried over an Elf he’d never met.

It was no wonder he loved him, Elrohir decided. "I hope so. I don’t know enough about potions and their effects; Ada hasn’t got that far in my studies. He’s very busy..."

He’d been training to be a Healer for decades now, going very slowly as he only wished to learn under his father - his very, very busy father. They snatched brief moments for lessons here and there, but Elrohir had very nearly decided he’d soon start learning from the other Healers, too. If he hadn’t been so stubborn, he might be able to help Erestor now.

"Don’t worry," Rumil said, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "We’re not stopping; we’ll reach Imladris by morning."

"Are they certain we can continue this pace?" Elrohir asked, referring to Glorfindel and Haldir, the unspoken leaders of the group.

"I think Glorfindel is determined. Are they lovers?" Rumil asked, lowering his voice so he couldn’t be overheard.

"...no," Elrohir replied slowly, "but I think ‘Fin would like to be."

"Ah." Rumil nodded. "That explains much, then. Your teacher could do worse, you know."

Elrohir managed a grin. "I know. ‘Fin will drive him crazy - he’ll be so protective after this. He’ll pull Erestor out of his shell, and Erestor will put some firm controls on that crazy Elf. They’re perfect for each other."

It was Rumil’s turn to grin. "Like us?"

"Yes..." Elrohir winked at him. "And like those two." He nodded toward Elladan and Orophin, who were riding side by side, hands linked. Both of them turned to eye their brothers, sensing their looks. Both raised a questioning eyebrow, and Elrohir and Rumil snickered.

"Yes, exactly like those two."

Erestor shifted in Elrohir’s arms, distracting him from more banter. "Erestor?" he asked softly, and watched as the dark eyes blinked slowly, then  _finally_  turned up to meet his.

"...Elrohir? What...?" The elder Elf’s eyes darted around to the trees and horses, obviously confused.

"Ada sent us after you, Erestor," Elrohir said softly, shifting him closer. "We found where they ambushed your group, and then Haldir and the ‘Lorien Elves showed up... since we had enough numbers, we got you all out." He wasn’t sure if Erestor really understood what he was saying, but he hoped a familiar voice would anchor him here - that it would keep him aware.

"Out..." Erestor repeated, then his eyes widened slightly. "Elrohir, did... find Glor... fin...?"

"We found him," Elrohir reassured him quickly. "We found him before we even arrived at the fort. He’s up there with Haldir, see?" he nodded toward the front of the column.

Erestor’s eyes tried to follow, but he was obviously having difficulty. "...blurry."

"Well, he’s there. Don’t worry."

Glorfindel seemed to sense that something was going on - his blue eyes turned to look back. Elrohir lifted a hand, beckoning to him.

Glorfindel was by his side so quickly that Elrohir was tempted to check Asfaloth for newly-sprouted wings.

"Yes?" the blond Elf asked, looked at Erestor instead of Elrohir.

If Elrohir had been satisfied with Erestor’s response to  _his_  voice, he was thrilled at what happened when Glorfindel spoke. That one word brought the Counselor fully upright, blinking owlishly at the blond. "Glorfindel?"

"Yes," the Elda repeated, reaching out to touch a small, cold hand.

"He really did ...let you go," Erestor whispered, so low the two Elves barely heard him.

Glorfindel frowned. He’d wondered why the Man had taken him outside the fort to kill him - had he told Erestor he was setting him free? Why would he try to trick the Counselor like that? It wasn’t as if Erestor could have stopped him... so what reason could the Man have had?

The only idea that occurred to him made his blood run cold.

The Man had wanted Erestor to believe he was letting Glorfindel go - to get something from his little Counselor in return for the ‘favor’. Erestor would have had no valuables on him...

So...

Glorfindel shuddered. No, surely that couldn’t have happened.

If it  _had_ , Riel wouldn’t have kept it to herself; the blond She-Elf was abnormally quiet, giving him a big-eyed, sad look when he glanced at her. It didn’t sit well on her face... she was up to something.

Well, he didn’t have time to worry about her.

If that Man had tried - _something_ \- wouldn’t Erestor’s cousin have mentioned it? He was riding nearby, silent as Riel, with his eyes fixed worriedly on the dark Elf. Yes, surely he would have told them if something so terrible had occurred.

Erestor was gazing at him, still disoriented, surprise on his pretty face as he looked at their linked hands. Glorfindel gave him a beaming smile that only seemed to confuse him further.

Elrohir laughed softly, and pushed Erestor’s head down on his shoulder. "Rest, wise one. Ada will fix everything when we get home. All the ‘blurry’ will go away."

 

*

 

Elrond lifted his head at the sound of startled cries in the courtyard.

What now?!

He’d just got a bit of the mess untangled - though it had taken him several hours and Figwit’s help - and he wanted to try and get more of this done before Erestor got back and laughed his head off at them all.

He sighed, and went to the window, gazing out onto a scene of controlled chaos.

Why were the diplomats back?! He’d sent his sons after Erestor, not all of -

Glorfindel was back, too.

And half the Elves dismounting looked like staggering drunks.

The Healers were rushing out to help - someone had summoned them.

Elrond’s heart sank down into his stomach. He scanned the crowd quickly, relived to see Elladan, looking quite whole. Where was Elrohir? Ah, there, still on his horse - and he looked well...

...what was the bundle he was handing to Glorfindel? It looked like he had been holding a rather young Elf.

‘ _Or’_ , he thought, ‘ _one rather small Counselor_.’

Something was wrong with Erestor.

Elrond turned and ran from his study, his formal robes a swirl of blue as he went. His heart, which had calmed once he saw his sons safe and whole, was pounding again. Erestor was his best friend - his strongest support - forget that he ran Imladris like a well-oiled machine, forget that he was the most able Counselor Elrond had ever had. His mind and memories were full of Erestor helping to raise his children, giving him comfort when Celebrian had been forced to sail for Valinor, laughing with him over a game of chess, making him take a rest when no one else realized he was overworked...

He couldn’t bear it if something happened to Erestor. It would be like losing a brother.

He hurried around a corner and nearly slammed into Glorfindel, who was apparently bringing Erestor straight to him.

"What happened?" Elrond demanded, reaching out to take the Elf.

Glorfindel was reluctant to let go. Erestor had slipped back into the odd waking-sleep once Glorfindel had been forced to move away from him; his blank, dazed eyes made him want to cry. He wasn’t certain he would be able to control his emotions if he had to release his hold on his Counselor.

"We were captured by Men," he said softly, sitting down in the chair Elrond waved him towards. The Half-Elf knelt in front of him, smoothing back the hair that obscured Erestor’s eyes. Elrohir had taken advantage of one of their very short rests to put it in a loose braid, but soft, curly tendrils had gleefully escaped.

"And?" Elrond prompted him, pushing back a drooping eyelid for a better look at Erestor’s pupils.

"And they drugged us all, with some sort of sleeping potion. Everyone woke, but the leader of the Men gave Erestor another potion that put him back to sleep, and later yet another. We don’t know what it was supposed to do, but he doesn’t respond. He woke once, and was barely coherent. That was several hours ago."

"Was there no way to make them tell what sort of potion it was?"

"Apparently, only the leader knew, and he escaped. We could not find him anywhere."

Elrond swore, something he rarely did. "That is not good. I can give him no antidotes without knowing the potion. Letting it clear from his system naturally may be our only choice..."

Glorfindel looked at him sharply, sensing his reluctance. "But?"

"But, some potions do not clear. I have heard of several that would keep Erestor in this state for years, without ever truly wakening. It takes the antidote to clear his mind."

"What do we do, then?" Glorfindel asked, horrified. He clutched Erestor closer without realizing what he was doing.

Elrond noticed, but didn’t say anything. Yet. He was pleased to see how much Glorfindel cared about his friend, but now was not the time to discuss it. "We wait. If he doesn’t wake, I will try the antidotes I know, in very small doses so they will do as little damage as possible. Valar, I hope it’s just a temporary condition."

"As do I," was Glorfindel’s heartfelt reply.

 

*

 

Araden was pacing.

Back and forth, in the lovely guest chamber he’d been shown to after the Healers finished examining him.

He was trying to decide what to do.

He had promised Erestor he would keep his mouth shut - but it had been well over three days and his cousin was still in the open-eyed daze he’d been in since they had brought him back to Imladris. He hadn’t responded after that one moment of clarity on the ride back to the Last Homely House. Lord Elrond was speaking of trying the antidotes; a dangerous procedure, since some would act as mild poisons if the drug they were used to counteract was not present in the patient’s body.

Araden had a strong suspicion that it was less the drugs and more of whatever had happened in that Man’s inner chamber that was keeping Erestor in his twilight state. He wanted desperately to ask Elrond if such a thing were a sign of the one and only Elven Sickness - if Erestor might be showing the first signs of fading.

But if he did that, the Lord would demand to know  _why_  Erestor might be fading - and if his cousin  _wasn’t_  fading, but really was only drugged, Erestor would never forgive him for giving his secret away.

Valar - he just didn’t know what to do.

 

*

 

Kalian frowned at Lady Riel, his green eyes carefully hiding his emotions.

The Lady was weeping softly, her big blue eyes full of tears, as she demanded to know the symptoms of fading. Kalian had named a few before he’d thought to ask why - now the Lady was claiming to have them, asking in a soft, sweet tone if she could confide in him. He had nodded, and she had proceeded to tell him a very... interesting story.

"I think, my Lady... I think you should tell this to Lord Elrond. And Lord Glorfindel, as well."

"Oh... must I?" she asked, trying to look sad but he was certain there was glee in her quickly lowered eyes. "What if they think ill of me?"

"If you made such a sacrifice for Lord Glorfindel’s sake," Kalian replied slowly, "then the last thing he will do is despise you for it."

"Oh, I hope your words are true!" she cried softly, wringing her hands. "But how shall I approach them? They spend all their time with Lord Erestor!" She didn’t manage to keep all the venom out of her tone at that name, and Kalian raised an eyebrow.

"Lord Erestor is very ill, of course, and they are worried - but I am certain they will spare you a moment if I ask."

"Oh, would you? I will be so grateful!" She gave him a sweet, shy look and he had to force himself not to gag. She was _flirting_  with him - wait ‘til he told his wife! His little spitfire would claw her eyes out!

"Excuse me, then," he said, getting to his feet, "I’ll go and summon the Lords. Wait here, yes?"

"Oh, of course!" she replied, giving him a rather dazzling smile.

He left the room, and allowed his irritation to finally show on his face. "Fading, indeed. Does she take me for a fool?" He stalked down the hall to the silent, grim chamber where Elrond and Glorfindel were watching over Erestor.

He stopped in the doorway, watching silently for a moment. Glorfindel sat on the bed, his arms around Erestor. The dark Elf was lying against his chest, his head tilted back on the blond’s shoulder, while Lord Elrond gently fed him some broth, stroking his throat to encourage him to swallow. The small Elf was swaddled in blankets and dressed in thick, dark brown robes that used to belong to Elladan - they were worn by the Half-Elves in winter, when they felt traces of the cold that full Elves did not experience. These were robes he had grown too tall for, but they fit Erestor perfectly.

And the Counselor needed them - the chill that had taken over his body worried all the Healers.

So did the greyish cast to his skin.

Kalian frowned suddenly. Chilled flesh, sickly color, the dark hair that had surprised all of Imladris with its pretty curls going limp and lifeless... Riel’s questions about fading brought all of those symptoms into sudden, sharp focus and he gasped.

Elrond looked up at the sound. "Kalian? What is wrong?"

"Is he fading?!" the Healer blurted, not taking the time to consider his words.

"No!" Glorfindel said sharply, his arms tightening around the frail figure as if he would protect him from the very thought.

Elrond, however, was echoing Kalian’s frown, his eyes going over his limp friend thoughtfully. "Why do you ask?"

"He has the first symptoms... is it only the potions they gave him?"

His Lord didn’t answer, not at first - and then his question was oddly off-topic. "What puts the thought of fading in your head, Kalian?"

"Oh," Kalian was abruptly recalled to his mission. "Lady Riel does, actually."

"How so?"

"She claims  _she_  is fading."

"Riel?!" Glorfindel snorted, easing Erestor back down onto the bed and tucking the blankets around him, "she’s healthy as a horse! Why does she think she’s fading?"

"Well, it’s apparently your fault."

"What?!" Both the Lords shouted together.

"I think - I think you should come and listen to her story. I’m sure you don’t want her in here."

"Yes... I have to hear this one," Glorfindel muttered, but he hesitated as he looked back at his Counselor. He didn’t want to leave Erestor alone...

Neither did Elrond. "You sit with him, Kalian. See if you can, perhaps, feed him more broth. We shall see to Riel - which room is she in?"

"The Green Chamber," Kalian replied, moving toward the bed and sitting on the low stool next to it.

"Fine. We shall be back shortly, I hope." The two Elves left the room.

Kalian did not watch them go. He smoothed the brow of an Elf he had always admired, but who had never been his friend - something he hoped to correct in the future. "They’ll come back," he whispered soothingly, sure Erestor could sense that his protectors were gone. "Let’s see if you can eat more, hmm?"

He picked up the bowl of broth.

 

*

 

Riel’s golden head came up sharply when the door opened. When she saw the two Elves who were entering, her face flashed with triumph before settling back into its sad, frightened mask.

"Lady Riel," Elrond began, his tone strictly formal, "Healer Kalian tells me you have some worries over the possibility of having the Elven Sickness?"

"I’m fading," she whispered softly, forcing her wide eyes to fill with tears.

"Are you, then?" Elrond said calmly, taking the Healer’s stool next to the cot she was sitting on. "And why do you believe this?"

"I - I have the symptoms," she wavered, glancing at Glorfindel from under her eyelashes. The blond Elf hadn’t moved from the door, his face perfectly blank.

"Do you, then?" Elrond’s Healer eyes flickered over her, but he made no further remark. "And what is causing this fading, pray tell?"

"Oh... it... must I say?" She batted her lashes shyly.

"If we are to help you, yes."

"Oh, I see. Well, it was when I was being held by those terrible Men. Their leader, he was going to kill you, Glorfindel! Do you remember?"

"I’m not very likely to forget," Glorfindel grumbled, speaking for the first time since entering the chamber.

"Oh, no, I suppose not!" She tittered slightly, then remembered she was supposed to be broken-hearted. "Well - after he took you from the Hall we were in, he offered to spare your life if I would - if I would..." She paused, trembling delicately.

"If you would what?" Elrond prompted quietly. His heart was sinking, but not for the reason Lady Riel might have hoped.

"If I would - give myself to him. Willingly, so I would not fade so quickly." She placed a pretty hand over her heart. "Glorfindel - I do love you so, I could not bear it if you were to be slain. I had no choice!"

"So you gave yourself to this Man?" Elrond asked, wanting her to speak the claim completely.

"Yes," she replied, lifting her chin. Her voice didn’t waver in the slightest. "I did so; he did not  _quite_ complete his wishes, for he was called when the Warriors attacked, rescuing us - but I’m afraid that he went far enough to... to make me fade! Oh, Lord Elrond, will I have to sail for Valinor?"

"Perhaps," he replied grimly, "perhaps not. Tell me, Lady Riel - who else was in the room when this offer was made?"

Her eyes flickered for the first time. "Oh... I... I was alone. He took me into the inner chamber before he asked the dreadful question."

"Leaving Lord Erestor and the Mirkwood Advisor in the outer chamber?" Glorfindel asked.

"Yes."

"I see," Lord Elrond said. "Well, we shall have to ask the Mirkwood Elf why he did not try to defend you when the Man led you off, to be alone with him. He should have realized there would be danger. Lord Erestor, I am afraid, cannot be questioned at this time. Glorfindel?"

"Yes, my Lord?"

"You know which Advisor this was?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Bring him here, then."

Glorfindel turned on his heel and left the room.

"My Lord..." Riel ventured hesitantly, "must he be summoned? I would prefer it if as few Elves as possible knew of this... this disgrace."

"Oh, I’m certain he can guard his tongue. He would not be an Advisor that Tharanduil would keep, if he could not," Elrond replied absently.

"Oh." Riel lapsed into silence, and Elrond felt no desire to speak further.

They waited.

It was scarcely five minutes before Glorfindel returned, his face still empty of emotion, with a furious blond Elf.

Araden was scarcely in the door before he was shouting. "You lying wench! How  _dare_  you try and take credit for what he did?!"

"Be at ease... it is Araden, isn’t it? Tell us what you mean," Lord Elrond said, his tone a mixture of commanding and soothing.

"She... she..." Araden was nearly trembling in his rage. "That Man asked us  _all_  if we would trade our bodies for his safety, but a blind Elf could have guessed it was Erestor he wanted! He had it planned from the beginning! He knew Erestor wouldn’t see him dead!  _She_  refused - tossed her head and said Glorfindel would never want her to do that! Erestor was the one who agreed!"

Elrond had to pause a moment, turning his back to hide his expression from Riel when the fear that had sprouted earlier was proven to be fact. He hadn’t thought Riel was clever enough to come up with such a story on her own - the blond She-Elf had never had an original thought in her life. He had been sure there was something behind her story, and Erestor’s condition had made him fear this very thing.

"What did the Man do to him?" he finally managed to ask, hoping his voice was calm. He turned back to see Glorfindel staring at Araden too, waiting for the answer, his clenched fists the only sign of the raging tension he was feeling.

"I don’t know!" the blond said, his voice frustrated. "He took him into the inner chamber and locked the door!"

"Were there no sounds?"

"I heard one moan... very soft."

"How long?"

"Scarcely a half-hour."

"And when he came out? When the Men under him informed him there was an attack?"

"The Man was half-undressed. Erestor’s tunic was gone but his leggings were fastened - he said the Man didn’t do enough to make him fade, but..."

"Every Elf is different," was Elrond’s quiet reply to that. "Erestor is a sensitive soul, though he hides it well; an Elf like that always fades more quickly than most. Why did you not tell me what had occurred?"

"I swore I would not... I was waiting, though - at the first whisper he might be fading I would have come straight to you. Please, believe me."

"He’s lying!" Riel cried suddenly, her pretty face twisting with anger. "Lord Erestor did nothing, it was I who..."

"Be quiet," Elrond said softly, with such menace in his tone that she immediately shut up. "You are not fading - your skin glows with health and you are dressed lightly, so you feel no cold. A sad look and downcast eyes are easily feigned. As for sailing for Valinor - Lady Riel, I would  _highly_  recommend this. You will be less than popular here once others learn of what you have tried to do."

"I’ve done nothing!"

"Oh, really?" Elrond’s tone was now icy. "You call it nothing, to tell a lie that, if believed, would sentence our Erestor to death? We might have continued to believe him only drugged until it was too late for him to sail - or to bond," he added, slanting his eyes at Glorfindel.

"Bond?!" Riel shrieked, "he can’t bond with Glory - Glory loves  _me_!"

"I do not, and you know it," Glorfindel grumbled.

"You do, too!"

"I do not!"

"You have to!"

"No, I don’t!"

"Enough!" Elrond shouted. "Stop quarreling like children! Lady Riel - make your choice. Valinor, or I can ask Galadriel if she will accept you in Lothlorien. You will not, however, stay in Imladris, and I’m quite certain you will not be welcome in Mirkwood." He glanced at Araden.

"Damn straight," the blond Elf muttered, making Glorfindel snicker. Perhaps he’d misjudged Erestor’s cousin.

"But I don’t  _want_  to leave Imladris!" Riel wailed, her eyes filling with true tears this time.

"I’m afraid you have no choice. I will leave you to decide on your destination - Glorfindel, Araden, you come with me."

"Yes, Lord Elrond," they both replied, rather reluctantly. They would have liked to wait and pitch Riel out the front door themselves.

 

*

 

Glorfindel stood in the door to Erestor’s chamber, this time, watching as Kalian continued to try to get broth into his Counselor. Elrond had told him to come here - that he would have to do this.

As though Glorfindel would have argued! He’d try  _anything_  to keep his Counselor here - and it was not as though bonding with him would be a hardship! It didn’t trouble him at all to think of having no Elf but Erestor for the rest of his immortal life.

...he knew he would have wanted this soon enough, anyway, without Erestor having to make such a horrible sacrifice.

He was going to hunt that Man down and skin him.

Alive.

Slowly.

He just hoped this worked - binding  _could_  save Erestor - but it might not. Every Elf was different, as Elrond had said - Celebrian hadn’t been able to recover from her own trauma, she’d had to sail for Valinor and she’d been bound to Elrond for centuries.

But he had to try.

He sighed and pushed away from the door. "Kalian - I’ll tend to him now."

"All right," the Healer didn’t question him. "I got about half a cup of broth into him."

"Good. Thank you," he waited, watching until the Healer left the room. Then he closed the chamber door, locked it, and turned back to the bed.

‘ _He did it for you_ ,’ Elrond’s soft words echoed in his head.

‘ _And doesn’t want you to know_ , _for fear of forcing you to do this very thing,_ ’ Araden had warned.

‘ _It’s not a hardship, and I will tell him so_ ,’ he had replied, and both Elves had grinned at him.

"Erestor," he whispered, sitting down and taking the nearest small hand into his. "Erestor, please be able to hear me. I love you - even if you hadn’t done what you did, I would still love you. I had planned to court you, and woo you with words and gifts, like you deserve. I’m sorry that I won’t be able to do that now - but I’ll make it up to you. I’ll give you anything you want, do whatever you want... only allow me this. Accept this..." He rubbed the cold fingers, watching his Counselor.

Erestor didn’t even twitch.

"Love - please hear me. I would bind with you - I would spend the rest of my life doing nothing but making you happy. I will give up my place as Guardian of Imladris, and clean privies, if that is what you asked me to do. I’d cut out my heart and put it in your hands if you so desired."

"...rather bloody," a feeble voice whispered.

"Erestor?!" Glorfindel cried, staring at the bed. Erestor’s eyes were still blank, empty - but tears were beginning to gather at their edges. "Ah, love, are you waking to me? You can hear me? I want you so much - please, bind with me?"

For a moment, there was no response, then the white lips moved, and that frail whisper was heard again, "...i would ...never ask it..."

"I know you wouldn’t. You are too noble for your own good, Chief Counselor. That is why  _I_  am asking - and you have my word of honor as a Warrior, that I would have asked you soon enough, anyway."

Now the tears truly were slipping down Erestor’s white face, and the huge black eyes were finally -  _finally_  - beginning to focus. "...truth?"

"Yes, love. I would never lie to you," Glorfindel whispered, then he gently cupped Erestor’s chin, leaning closer. "Bind with me - I would give you your binding kiss right now, Lord Erestor." He paused, then spoke the formal words - the words that made him belong to Erestor for eternity. "I give you my heart, my life, and my love. Never will there be another, save that you release me from this vow. My heart will beat with your heart, my breath shall draw with yours. Death take you, and I shall follow; the Sea call you, and I shall go. I swear it on my blood and my blade, that I shall love you forever."

Erestor was sobbing. "...don’t ...can’t let you ...not me..."

"You, love. You are the only one I ever wanted to say these words to."

"...because of... that M-ma..."

Glorfindel clapped a hand over his mouth. "Don’t speak of him!" he growled. " _Not_  because of him! Because I want you, and I want to belong to you! Didn’t I show you this, in our tent, long before that creature ever laid eyes upon you?"

Erestor flushed softly, the first trace of color that had been on his face in days. "...you do this ...i will ... _never_  let you ...go..."

"And I would never want to leave, so we’re even. And I’ve already done it - now let me kiss you?"

"No."

Glorfindel’s heart shattered.

"...not until I say ...my vow to you..."

Glorfindel’s heart abruptly healed.

"...i give you ...my heart, my life ...and my love. Never will ...there be another, save ...that you ...release me from this ...vow. My heart ...will beat with your heart, my breath ...shall draw with yours. Death ...take you, and I shall ...follow ...the Sea ...call ...you ...and I ...shall ...go..." he paused, gasping for breath.

Glorfindel picked up the cooling broth and held the cup to his lips. "Drink a bit, love, it will help." He was shaking slightly, and spilled some liquid down Erestor’s chin as he drank, but neither noticed.

Erestor finally nodded, and Glorfindel set the cup aside. "Go on, then,  _please_ , love. I can’t bear waiting."

"I-impatient..." Erestor teased softly. "I ...I swear it on my ...blood and my f-fea ...that I shall ...love you ...forever." He was not a Warrior, so he could not swear on his blade.

Not that it made any difference to Glorfindel.

As soon as the last syllable was out of his mouth, warm lips were pressed against his in a kiss that seemed to touch his very soul.

And for the first time, he kissed Glorfindel back.

 

 

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Repeating warning for smushy-sugary-sweetness!

Normally, Glorfindel paid little attention to the passing of time. When you were immortal, a few days or weeks gone by didn’t mean a lot. For that matter, he’d let  _years_  go by before without noticing.

He was fairly certain that he’d never counted minutes before.

He was counting them, now.

It had been six thousand, one hundred and forty-three minutes since he’d bonded with Erestor.

Four days, six hours, and twenty-three minutes.

He’d started counting them when he realized he’d never been so happy in all his long life.

Or so frustrated.

After their first bonding kiss - and a few more that followed - Erestor had fallen into a true sleep, not that half-awake daze that had been so unsettling. Glorfindel had settled onto the bed and pulled him into his arms, just holding him as he slept.

Elrond had unlocked the door about an hour later, grinned at him, then gently woke Erestor to make sure that he _would_  wake. His Chief Counselor had grumbled at him, which pleased the Elf Lord no end, and gone right back to sleep.

Then Elrond proceeded to lecture Glorfindel.

"I know you’re going to be anxious," he said, "and I know that your bond won’t be fully complete until you make love..." he’d managed to say that with only the slightest blush "...but I also know you care deeply about Erestor, and you’ll want what’s best for him."

"And that is?"

"That you should take things slowly. He’ll be very weak for a few days, and I’ll bet my best robe that he was untouched before this journey - and then, he’ll have some severe memories to deal with, bonded or not."

"I’ll give him all the time he needs," Glorfindel promised, his eyes flashing, "but I still swear I will hunt that Man down and gut him."

Elrond gave him a reproving look, that didn’t quite match the grin on his face. "Now, is that any way for the Captain of Imladris to speak?"

"Sorry..." Glorfindel said, not looking a bit regretful.

"You should be. After all, Erestor might like a chance to do some gutting of his own. As would I, and the twins. Do not be so selfish."

Glorfindel snickered. "Yes, my Lord."

And that, of course, had been over four days ago. Erestor was awake now; getting about fairly well, though he remained his quiet self. He even braided his hair in the usual tight braid - when Glorfindel wasn’t quick enough to do it for him.  _He_ made sure that lovely long hair was loosely braided, so the curls would escape as the day went by.

He liked watching the other Elves stare wistfully at his Counselor.

They knew better than to do anything more than stare.

Glorfindel just found himself a bit frustrated that  _he_  couldn’t do much more than stare.

Yet.

 

 

*

 

 

Erestor yawned.

Maybe it had been a  _little_  too soon to come back to his duties, but Figwit - laughing like an Elfling - had told him about the chaos his absence had caused. Though he found it more than a little amusing, he knew he needed to get Imladris back under control.

It would just be easier if he wasn’t  _quite_  so tired.

He glanced at the next item on the list of problems one of his rather useless Assistants had surprised him with. "They couldn’t remember the amounts to pay the traders?! But that is listed in the payment books - they are sitting right there on that shelf! Exactly where they’ve always been!"

"True," Figwit replied, smiling, "but they would have needed their brains to remember that; I’m quite certain they misplaced those centuries ago."

Erestor hid a smile behind his hand. "Perhaps you’re right... we should move the payment books closer to the desks, though - it could help them to remember, next time."

"What next time?" asked a voice from the doorway. They looked up to see Elrond standing there, frowning at Erestor.

"My Lord?"

"There will be no ‘next time’; I fully intend to chain you to that desk if you ever try to leave again." his smiled belied the intensity of his words. "And what, pray tell, are you doing out of bed?"

"I cannot lie about for the rest of my life. There is too much to do - also, I would go insane."

Elrond smiled again. "And isn’t there  _anything_  that might keep you content in your bed?"

Erestor’s eyes went huge, and he blushed. "Elrond!"

"What?" the Elf Lord asked innocently. "I just thought you might take some of the trade treaties, or work on a few reports there. That’s all."

"Uh huh," Erestor didn’t believe a word of it.

"I promise,"Elrond teased gently, "I was not thinking of locking you in your bedchambers with Glorfindel." He kept smiling, but he watched Erestor’s reaction carefully, looking for a shadow in his eyes.

He saw none - the smaller Elf only blushed more hotly, and looked as if he were contemplating throwing his inkwell at him.

Good - that was the Erestor he knew.

...oh, yes, and the Erestor he needed to have a little talk with!

He took a thick scroll from inside his sleeve and lay it on the Counselor’s desk. "I would like you to explain this to me, Erestor."

"What is it?" his friend replied, reaching out to open the scroll. The long, neat list revealed only seemed to confuse him farther. "Elrond?"

"Would you mind telling me, Counselor, why I was informed that you handle  _all_  of those duties? I am utterly shocked that you never started fading before."

Erestor blinked. "But - these are just regular duties..." He blinked harder as he allowed the scroll to open further...

...and it rolled off his desk and halfway across the room, leaving a long ribbon of paper behind it.

"Um..."

"‘Um’, indeed. How many Assistants do you have, Erestor?"

"Six, counting Figwit. Why?"

"How many of them actually work?"

"...Figwit," was the slow reply, and then Erestor smiled at the other small Elf.

Figwit grinned back. He had a pretty good idea of what was coming.

"Tell the others I want them to divide that list between them. I expect you to do only the most important tasks, yourself, the ones I marked. You are only to supervise the rest. I will be watching them to make sure they do their work properly, or they will be speedily replaced with Elves that  _will_  work."

Erestor stared at him.

"Oh, and name Figwit your Chief Assistant, and put him in charge of the rest, as well."

Now Figwit was staring, too.

Elrond just smiled serenely. "Good. I’m glad we have that settled. Now - Figwit, you take over this office today, hmm? and Erestor - you take  _one_  task, and go back to bed."

"One?" Erestor protested, finally finding his voice.

"One!" Elrond repeated firmly, and walked out the door.

Erestor stoutly resisted making a rude gesture after him; he instead picked up the huge stack of prospective trade agreements that had been sent from various villages.

"That’s not one task," Figwit objected.

"Sorting through them for the best ones is." Erestor gave him a brief smile and turned toward the door.

Figwit just sighed and shook his head. Lord Elrond should have known Erestor would get the last word.

 

 

*

 

 

Glorfindel strolled down the hall toward the new chambers he’d been assigned, nodding pleasantly at the Elves he met along the way. He was in quite a good mood - he’d just seen Lady Riel, sobbing every step of the way, climb into a cart piled high with her belongings, heading for Lothlorien. Galadriel had agreed to give her shelter, on a sort of probation. If she caused no trouble, she could stay.

Glorfindel had a feeling she would be sailing for Valinor, anyway, after the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood had to deal with her for a few weeks.

Because the Valar knew Riel couldn’t resist causing trouble. Cautious, underhanded trouble that was rarely traced back to her, but with Galadriel’s sharp eyes watching, she wouldn’t be able to get away with her usual tricks.

He would have liked to share his good mood over her departure with his Bonded, but they hadn’t told Erestor of her little attempt. Elrond had decided there was no point in it; is was more likely to upset the Counselor than amuse him. Glorfindel had thought it over and agreed. He certainly hadn’t found it amusing at the time, though he snickered a bit, now, at the memory of some of Riel’s expressions.

It wasn’t as if it needed to be told to anyone else, either. Kalian had been easily sworn to secrecy, and Araden was doing his best to get his Cousin to like him. Telling about Erestor’s sacrifice to anyone else would gather a great deal more respect for Erestor, but also cause him to receive looks of pity or disquiet.  Araden was sure to realize that Erestor wouldn't want that to happen.

Glorfindel didn’t want that to happen, either.

Anyway, Erestor didn’t  _need_  more respect. As soon as he was back to full awareness - although weak, and forced by Elrond to stay in bed - he’d put an abrupt end to the chaos that had plagued Imladris. All the Elves had learned a new appreciation for the Counselor they’d usually poked fun at; he hadn’t heard one single whispered joke since their return.

Erestor’s newly bright eyes and the curls Glorfindel was constantly tugging loose from his braid helped, too. He didn’t think anyone would ever call Erestor ‘Old Death’s-Head’ again. Not even when he’d managed two or three hours with the old, tight braid still intact.

Last night, he’d been able to help his love into the Great Hall, for dinner, the first time since Erestor had woken. Elrond had finally permitted it; though he insisted his Counselor sat in his old chair near him, he’d allowed Glorfindel to switch his permanent seat with another Elf, and take over the chair beside Erestor.

Glorfindel had seen to it, when Erestor’s possessions joined his in their new chambers, that all his formal black evening robes had mysteriously vanished. They were all badly cut, far too thick and bulky and loose for his pretty Counselor. He’d brought him a perfectly-fitted garment the same deep, rich blue as the evening sky, and called it a Bonding gift so Erestor  _had_  to put it on. It had promptly turned his skin from sallow-pale to the luminous moonlight ivory he had remembered. He’d dressed himself in his best silver-trimmed blue tunic, a few shades lighter than the robe for Erestor, and chose black leggings. He’d styled his hair a bit more elaborately than usual, so that Erestor had no real reason to object when Glorfindel did the same to his. He’d left it down, brushed it until it was soft, smooth waves, with two small braids that wound prettily from his Counselor’s temples, behind his perfect ears, to join into a single braid and fall down the back.

Then he’d dragged his blushing, protesting mate to dinner, and enjoyed the dropped jaws and wide eyes.

The few Elves who had questioned why Lord Glorfindel could possibly,  _ever_ , want Lord Erestor would never ask the stupid question again.

And they were only looking at his newly-lovely outside. They knew nothing of the strong, brave Elf within, who loved him so much he was willing to sacrifice his life, his body, and his sanity to keep Glorfindel safe.

The Captain was torn between anger and joy whenever he thought of it.

Anger that Erestor had been forced to do so.

Joy - oh, joy! - that Erestor loved him so much.

He had another gift for Erestor - a clip for his hair, shaped like a tiny drawing of a horse, done in fragile strands of silver. He opened the door to their rooms, hoping to leave it as a surprise on his pillow, and instead found his love sitting in the middle of the bed, piles of paper around him, frowning down at some boring office work.

"Erestor? What are you doing?" he asked, closing the door behind him and tucking the little package back in his tunic.

"Mm?" Erestor didn’t look up. "Trade agreements."

"Does Elrond know you’re up to that?"

"Mm-hmm. Wouldn’t let me stay in my office."

"You felt good enough to go to your office?" Glorfindel asked, his blue eyes lighting up with mischief.

"Yes..." Erestor replied distractedly, turning over another paper and blinking at it. Really, why would  _any_  Elf be interested in mining boots? Dwarves did mining, not Elves... what twit sent this here?

The bed dipped suddenly, and he gave a surprised yelp as he tumbled sideways, landing against a broad chest. A big hand lifted the agreement from his, and gathered up the others, setting them on a nearby table.

"Glorfindel! I need to get that finished!"

"Ah, yes, but  _we_  have things to finish, too, don’t we? Since you’re feeling better?"

Erestor looked up, his velvet dark eyes going wide when he saw the decided leer on Glorfindel’s face. "Oh? Oh! Y-yes, we do..."

To his surprise, Glorfindel didn’t pounce him immediately. Instead, the blond ran gentle hands over his hair, freeing it from its braid, stroking his fingers delicately over the pointed ears.

"Erestor... this isn’t going to remind you of... of anything... is it?"

Erestor blinked. Remind him of... oh. That.

"No."

"Are you sure? I would not cause you grief, my love."

"I am sure. There is a vast difference between being in your arms and being in that ...Man’s ...chambers." He nearly spat the word ‘Man’. He didn’t know if he’d ever trust one of those creatures again.

Glorfindel pulled him closer, settling him against his chest. "Love - will you tell me, now, what he did?"

"Why?" Erestor asked blankly. "I thought we were going to..."

His Warrior shifted uncomfortably. "I don’t... I do not wish to do anything that may be similar to..."

"Oh." Erestor realized what he was driving at. "Glorfindel - I don’t think there is much that would. I was drugged before he truly started anything; I only remember it in the vaguest sort of way."

Both were silent for a moment.

"Then tell me what you vaguely remember?" Glorfindel finally asked. "It will be good for you."

"Did Elrond put you up to this?" Erestor demanded, not looking up.

"Not exactly. He did mention that I should know before - well, before. But, love, I would have asked anyway. I will  _never_  do anything that might cause you grief, not if I can help it. I don’t want to risk reminding you of him while you are with me."

Erestor thought that over. So, Glorfindel thought he should tell him for his own sake - yet, whether the Elda realized it or not, Erestor needed to tell him for Glorfindel’s peace of mind. His Warrior might be worried about hurting him, but Erestor was just as worried about leaving his love tense and nervous.

He sighed.

"I remember him telling me to take off my tunic," he whispered, snuggling closer to Glorfindel so he wouldn’t have to look at his face. "And he ran his hands over me, but I was already starting to get dizzy. He said some things, told me about the potion and said it would make me ‘compliant’... he kept talking, but I couldn’t understand what he was saying anymore."

Glorfindel’s arms had tightened slightly, but he didn’t reply.

"I... remember that he touched me outside my leggings, but he didn’t tell me to take them off. I think... Glorfindel... you know I do not have much experience? Or... well... any experience?"

Glorfindel nodded, making a rumbling sound of agreement. Erestor felt him nuzzling into his hair.

"I - I remember kneeling on the floor, because it was rough stone and hurt my knees a little... I have vague flashes of something hot in my mouth, and then choking... so, I think that he... that he..." He trailed off uncertainly. "Is that something he would have wanted to do?"

"Yes," Glorfindel’s voice was hoarse. "It was. You don’t remember it? Nothing more than those images about it, I mean?"

Erestor shook his head. "I remember the choking, and my jaw felt tired, then I remember sitting half on his lap on the couch, and someone pounding on the door and he was so surprised he shoved me off to the floor. Then I remember Araden helping me put my tunic on, and we talked for a bit... and then I was on a horse, and Elrohir was holding me, and you were there... and then I woke up here, with this strange blond Elf offering me a bloody heart."

Glorfindel managed a chuckle. "I’d still give it to you, if you wanted it."

Erestor decided they had been serious enough. He poked Glorfindel’s chest, sitting back. "No, leave it where it is. I don’t think this will be very enjoyable if you have a gaping hole in your chest, getting the blankets all messy."

Glorfindel laughed and leaned forward, pressing his nose against Erestor’s and gazing into his eyes. "You know, this is not exactly the romantic conversation I was expecting, for the first time we would make love."

"Well, it isn’t, though, is it?"

"Isn’t what?" the blond was confused.

"Isn’t our first time," Erestor clarified. "Or did I dream what happened in that tent?"

"No," Glorfindel replied, easing his smaller lover down on the bed, "no, it was no dream. Though, I will admit to fantasizing over it several times, since."

The dark Elf blushed. "You wouldn’t be alone in that..." He allowed his mate to start unfastening the burgundy robe he was wearing - really, he was going to have to start hiding his black clothes. They were steadily disappearing from the wardrobe.

And  _this_  robe was steadily disappearing from his body. Glorfindel had finished unfastening it; now he pushed it open and gave an interested hum at discovering that while Erestor had put on leggings, he’d neglected to wear an under-tunic.

"It was warm this morning," the Counselor said defensively.

"Oh, I’m not complaining," Glorfindel murmured, his hands beginning to roam slowly over the ivory skin. "I’m not complaining  _at all_."

Erestor was nervous, but he couldn’t hold back a smile. Glorfindel looked too much like an Elfling who’d just been handed a new toy.

Then Glorfindel bent his head and rediscovered that sensitive spot on his throat, and Erestor promptly forgot what he’d been thinking about.

Glorfindel wasn’t thinking at all. He couldn’t spare the attention for anything beyond soft skin, delicate bones, lean muscles, and the low, quiet sounds Erestor was making in the back of his throat. He was already so aroused he was aching; he didn’t want this to end quickly, so he backed off a bit.

"What?" Erestor gazed up at him, those sharp black eyes gone hazy and soft with his own arousal, which very nearly defeated Glorfindel’s plan to take it slow.

"I don’t want this to end too soon," he said softly, "and you’re too beautiful for me to have much self-control."

Erestor blushed, a rather charming shade of red that started on his cheeks and spread to his face, down his neck, and across his chest. If it went further than that, Glorfindel didn’t know - it broke his hard-won control and he nearly attacked his smaller mate, devouring Erestor’s mouth with his own, his hands groping for every bit of skin he could reach.

His love certainly wasn’t objecting. Seemed to like it, actually, if the moans were anything to go by. He kept kissing him, but it was all too new and too exciting for their lips to stay together. They pulled apart, caught fleeting breaths of air, kissed again and then were apart again, tasting of each other’s throats, licking at skin and exploring the new textures and sensations they were finding.

Erestor slowly became brave enough to begin exploring Glorfindel, running his hands over broad shoulders and the elegant sweep of muscled back, enjoying the satin skin and the firmness under his hands. He had never had a lover, and his own hands shook with nervousness, but he never dreamed of stopping.

Glorfindel had centuries of experience, millennia of sexual playmates who had taught him all there was to know of love-making; yet he had never had a partner that he truly  _loved_  before. His hands were shaking just as badly, as he explored silky skin and the incredible softness of Erestor’s inner thighs - but he never dreamed of stopping, either.

Erestor never knew where his leggings disappeared to - one moment, Glorfindel was kissing his throat and playing with the drawstring at his waist; the next, his back was arching as Glorfindel licked a nipple and his leggings were gone. The sensation of Glorfindel’s sword-roughened hands on the sensitive skin of his thighs nearly made him come right then.

The blond Elf moved from worshiping his lover’s chest to lower areas, moving his tongue in broad swipes over delicate ribs and fluttering stomach muscles, investigating a lovely small navel until Erestor’s laughing gasps made him stop. He paused, eyeing a lovely erection thoughtfully. Erestor’s cock was dark red, leaking, and seemed to strain toward him in a very gratifying way - yet he hesitated to taste him. He  _wanted_  to, yet he feared it would make his love think of what had happened to him before... and that was the last thing he wished to happen.

So he wrapped a large hand around it instead, stroking gently, and decided that the way Erestor cried out and arched beneath him was every bit as good as having a taste. They could always save that for later, anyway, when he felt himself able to take things slow and carefully.

Right now, he was going to explode if he couldn’t get inside his love soon.

He sat up slightly, still stroking the smaller Elf, who was writhing now in a most enticing way. Glazed blue eyes surveyed the room, landing on the small beside table. Hadn’t he put something in there, just in the vague hope that this would happen soon?

His free hand shot out and yanked the drawer open, groping in its depths, and returned victoriously, carrying a small vial of oil. Rose-scented, if he remembered correctly.

Perfect.

Erestor was startled out of mind-numbing bliss when the cool glass vial landed on his thigh.

"Sorry," Glorfindel murmured, sounding anything but, and he felt the blond part his legs further, felt a strangely oily hand stroke over his balls and then further back, over the sensitive skin behind them, touching him in places no one had  _ever_ touched him before, circling the entrance to his body with careful precision.

He forgot how to breathe.

"Erestor? Love, let me?" Glorfindel’s voice was the only thing that was grounding him in reality - he nodded rapidly, caught between fear and excitement, and nearly shrieked aloud when the first careful finger pushed inside him.

"Easy," Glorfindel crooned, soothing him with soft kisses on his throat and collarbones. "Easy, easy, it’s all right, it will only hurt a little and you’ll forget it soon."

Erestor forced himself to relax. He trusted his Warrior; Glorfindel  _wouldn’t_  hurt him. It only felt a little strange, and even that was passing - then it all exploded into light and pretty colors and a racing heartbeat as the blond touched something inside him that Erestor had never dreamed existed.

"Oh," he gasped, staring at the grinning blond.

"Found it," Glorfindel said smugly, but before Erestor could ask exactly what ‘it’ was, that searching finger touched him there again, and he lost his train of thought. Glorfindel kept stroking him, and he struggled to keep himself conscious, vaguely aware that the bigger Elf was doing something with his other hand, holding him somehow that was keeping him from coming, but he couldn’t sort out the sensations enough to know exactly how - there was another finger inside him, yes, and another... three, then, or more - yes, another, and he didn’t care what Glorfindel did, he was going to come right _now_  -

\- except the fingers retreated, and the pressure on his shaft vanished, leaving him empty and feeling oddly cold.

He whimpered.

Valar, where had his pride gone?

Probably wherever those fingers went...

"Glor...fin..."

"Shh," was the response he got, "shh, love, just a moment. I don’t want you to come yet, just wait for me."

Wait for him? What did that mean, wait for him?

Erestor opened his mouth to ask the question, just as Glorfindel shifted and moved against him and abruptly answered it.

Hot, and hard, and throbbing, and it  _did_  hurt, and he hoped those words from earlier were true, and that he would soon forget it. Right now, it felt worse than any pain he could remember.

"Valar..." Glorfindel whispered, stopping his slow forward movement only when he was pressed tight against his love. "Oh, Erestor... you’re so... warm..." He held perfectly still, and his lover could feel him trembling, against him and inside him.

Erestor fought back tears. It hurt, yes, but it was amazing - he’d never known it was possibly for two beings to feel so closely connected - he could feel Glorfindel’s heart beating, and the blond’s chest rose and fell in perfect harmony with his own. He felt their rather tenuous bond growing stronger, felt the connection between them grow and spread until he was almost sure he could speak the blond’s thoughts.

If, of course, Glorfindel was thinking right now. Erestor had a feeling he was only concentrating on not coming, if the expression on his face was anything to judge by.

The pain he felt had settled to a dull, uncomfortable ache, and he shifted slightly, trying to ease it.

The motion made those lights explode behind his eyes again; made Glorfindel give a funny, yelping cry, and then they were both moving together, minds on automatic, ancient instinct taking over their bodies, seeking for the culmination of their pleasure. Glorfindel retained just enough brains to wrap his hand back around Erestor’s shaft - which made his Counselor make a few very interesting sounds that he would have to try for again later - and then he was back to mindless thrusting, his thoughts fading into pure bliss.

Erestor was certain he was dying. No one could possibly feel this good and continue to live! Lightning was dancing up and down his bones, little sparks twining around his hips and his balls and he knew he was going to explode any second now. He tried to whisper this fact to his lover, and received and encouraging sound and harder stroking as his reply.

Like he needed any further stimulation - power seemed to gather together and then shoot down his spine - his back was arching and he opened his mouth to scream but he didn’t hear any sound and then there was warmth spreading over his chest and stomach and he felt his muscles clamp down tight and Glorfindel let out a hoarse cry...

...and there was more warmth, inside him this time, and then

then

then his world went dark.

 

 

*

 

 

"Did you know Haldir is courting Prince Legolas?" A voice rumbled in a quiet room.

There was a yawn, then soft words spoken in reply, "No, but it doesn’t surprise me. I saw the way he looked at him at dinner last night."

"Mmm." The taller Elf shifted in the dark room, and pulled the smaller one closer. "So, did you like it?"

"Of course I did," was the snapped reply, belied by the gentle touch of fingers stroking a broad chest.

Glorfindel laughed softly. "A stupid question, I suppose."

Erestor gave a sleepy hum in reply - they’d only just woken from their rather exhausted sleep.

"Did you know that the twins are in love with Haldir’s brothers?"

"Yes, they told me."

"Oh? How long have you known?"

"A century or so." Erestor stretched a bit, then snuggled closer to his mate. "They think Elrond doesn’t know, but he figured it out long before they told me. He’s just waiting for them to scrape together the nerve to tell  _him_."

"Our Lord is very underhanded, you know this?"

"Yes."

"I guess Imladris wouldn’t be the same if he wasn’t."

"Probably not."

There was silence for a moment.

"Erestor?"

"Yes?"

"Can I call you ‘Tor?"

Dark eyes blinked sleepily, long lashes tickling against Glorfindel’s skin. "I suppose."

"You can call me ‘Fin, if you want."

"What, I can’t call you Glory?"

" _No_!"

Erestor was nearly dislodged from his Warrior’s side with the strength of his reaction, but he just snickered slightly and cuddled even closer. "All right, no Glory. What does she think about all this, by the way?"

"She - she has taken herself to Lothlorien."

"Oh." Erestor wasn’t quite sure how to answer that. He hadn’t thought Riel would be  _that_  heartbroken. Perhaps it was just a ploy to try and win sympathy. Well, he’d save his worries about that in case the blond harridan showed up here again. "How do you know Haldir is courting Legolas?"

"I figured it out when I caught them kissing in the wine cellar."

"Well, that would be a clue," Erestor snickered again. He hadn’t laughed this much in millennia. Not exactly what he would have imagined for his first post-lovemaking conversation, but he could think of worse scenarios.

Perhaps Glorfindel could think of better ones, for those strong arms closed more firmly around him, and that rumbling voice whispered, "I love you."

"And I, you," softly spoken, with a tightening of paler, thinner arms.

"Forever," the deeper voice vowed.

"Forever," the softer one echoed.

Another moment of silence, then, "Do you think there is a cure for loving so much?"

"Do you want one?"

"No. I hope never to find a remedy."

"Nor I."

"Erestor?"

"Yes?"

"Do you want to...? Again?"

"Yes."

"Good!"

The voices stopped talking, but this time there was no silence. Only soft moans and louder cries, and the sounds of renewed passion.

And the softer, more distant sounds of a heart shedding ancient bonds of loneliness, free to beat safely again, secure in the love of the heart he thought would never be his.

 

 

~finis~


End file.
